


finality

by violetholdsme



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Royal Guard, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blindness, Coffee Shops, Developing Friendships, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Almost Lovers, Falling In Love, Fights, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Knives, M/M, Mafia AU, Misunderstandings, Moving On, Musician/Artist, Organized Crime, Physical Intimacy, Promises, Reincarnation, Slow Burn, Sparring, Swordfighting, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, War, idiots to lovers, mutual respect, will add more tags as i go !
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26752267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetholdsme/pseuds/violetholdsme
Summary: finality/fīˈnalədē, fəˈnalədē/: (noun.) the fact or impression of having an irreversible ending.“Come find me, okay?”It was more a statement than a question, quiet but with conviction, surrounded in an air of finality.“I will.”
Relationships: Adachi Yuto/Jung Wooseok, Jo Jinho | Jino/Yang Hongseok, Kang Hyunggu | Kino/Ko Shinwon/Lee Hwitaek | Hui, Yan An/Yeo Changgu | Yeo One
Comments: 29
Kudos: 52





	1. impermanence

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first time writing a multi-chaptered fic so please bear with me. as you know i love this pairing so so much and reincarnation is one of my favorite fic tropes/concepts so i decided to write this to feed my own yeoyan heart TT
> 
> this is very angsty so be warned,, and since it's reincarnation i think it's a given that there's character death so yes ;-; there won't be anything too graphic though so don't worry. i'll include content warnings every chapter as well!
> 
> enjoy (good luck) reading~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **impermanence** _/imˈpərmənəns/_  
>  : (noun.) the state or fact of lasting for only a limited period of time.
> 
> “Good morning.”
> 
> Maybe Changgu also thought he was quite beautiful for his timidity, and that his eyes held a light he didn’t quite expect to be there. Changgu thought that his voice sounded hoarseーmaybe even brokenーbut still like it was his own. Not borrowed nor bruised. Changgu knew all that and more. And all the boy had said was _‘Good morning.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **cw for this chapter: war, illness**

When Yeo Changgu and Yan An had their first encounter in this universe, their names were not as they are now. They were the same souls, nonethelessーyearning to learn more of the world.

It was a time when war was rampant, and ever so often Changgu would hear the explosions outside his window, coming miles away from the city to the no-longer quiet countryside. Their days went by as always, except on some afternoons the sky would be pink or ash gray, and the villagers turned a blind eye while tending to their farms and animals and letting the war go on without them. So long as the village wasn’t raided, they supposed it would have to do. Not much was in their control, and they were only at the mercy of time; the only thing keeping them alive was the hope that the war would go on slowly enough for it not to catch up to them in their lifetimes.

 _Hope_ was scarce and rather useless, Changgu had learned. But it was all their people had, and all they could afford.

So when the war did catch up to them, it came in herds of cityfolkーrefugeesーthat came swarming into their village on foot, with wounds instead of guns, fears instead of weapons. Changgu supposed it was better than the alternative, but nonetheless a pitiful sight: seeing the farmers giving away the crop already scarce for their own families, or the children covered in ash that never seemed to smile, or his own mother tending to the wounds of people she did not even know. 

In the following days, refugees had moved in with small families, worked in the farms and wherever else, and the village had twice as many people and half as much resources to keep them alive. Changgu simply accepted, helping in any way he could, because he was sixteen and his father had told him he was lucky to have even lived that long. He did not really understand how being _lucky_ was equated to being _alive_ , but he accepted anyway.

The family that lived next door had taken in a boy about Changgu’s ageーtall, raven-haired, and apparently very, very sick. Changgu had only seen him once when he entered the house, and he never seemed to come out again. He asked his mother why, and she didn’t have an answer; Changgu thought it was odd that that was a question he managed to linger on, a trivial thing that he couldn’t seem to settle with.

He hadn’t had much luck with boys his age. Changgu always insisted on working, helping out his father on the farm instead of playing with the other boys out on the street. He wasn’t set on finding a girl he would marry someday (that was, if that someday even came), and he knew all the reasons why he kept to himself. But for some reason, when the war-stricken boy living in the house next door decided that _he_ would keep to himself, Changgu couldn’t sit still.

Some days Changgu would look through his neighbor’s windows to get a peek, but to no avail. He tried knocking on their door, offering to do housework or give them bread or pies or anything that could be an excuse to go inside, but someone else always answered, and he never saw the boy he was looking for. It was a stupid thing to do, but it distracted him from his chores or whatever else he told himself he had to be doing; he didn’t know if this counted towards the times his parents would insist he “loosen up a little,” or “go make some friends with the other kids,” but it was something to do other than plowing the fields, and giving up didn’t seem like an option. There was something about that boy that made Changgu drawn to him; he wanted to know more, to see more, to get a second look at the boy’s face when he wasn’t covered in ash from whatever warzone he managed to escape. Changgu wanted to know what made him sick, why he had come to their village with no one, why he hadn’t come out of the house since the moment he stepped in. 

Most of all, deep down in a corner of his mindーChanggu wanted to know if when he had laid eyes on the boy for the first time, he had seen him too.

***

It was the seventh hour of a yellow-sky morning when Changgu opened the door of his home, only to see the recent object of his fascinations. He was standing sheepishly in Changgu’s doorway like Changgu had done on _his,_ all the mornings before. Changgu was surprised, to say the least; perhaps his neighbors were sick of him showing up at their door all the time and got an inkling of what he wanted. Maybe the boy was simply ordered to knock on Changgu’s family’s door and ask for some food. Or a favor. Maybe they were going to take him up on the things he had been offering, and sent a perfect present to get him to say yes. 

“Good morning.”

Maybe Changgu also thought he was quite beautiful for his timidity, and that his eyes held a light he didn’t quite expect to be there. Changgu thought that his voice sounded hoarseーmaybe even brokenーbut still like it was his own. Not borrowed nor bruised. Changgu knew all that and more. And all the boy had said was ‘ _Good morning.’_

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Changgu let the words slip from his mouth, not bothering to think twice.

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I see you,” the other boy said, letting out a sharp exhale. “You look through my window, sometimes.”

Changgu blushed at that, feeling the heat pool in his cheeks and at the tip of his ears, but the calmness of his heartbeat gave him a different signal. He went on.

“You see me?”

“I do.”

“How come _I_ never see _you_?”

“You see me now,” he replied, looking at the ground below him. “I’m Yanan, by the way.”

“Changgu.” He smiled, coming outside and shutting the door behind him. “Do you want to walk with me, Yanan?”

Yanan nodded weakly, a small smile playing at his lips as he followed the other boy. 

Changgu walked him around the village, past the fields and homes and gardens. They shared smiles and silence under the poisoned sunrise, but it was comfortable. It was good. When Yanan asked Changgu if they could do it again, there was no other answer in the older boy’s mind than _yes._

They walked each other home before midday, Yanan retreating back into his unseeable space, and Changgu looking more content than his mother had even seen him. She served up her subtle comments along with the bland vegetable soup, grinning like it was nice to see him so relaxed, so _normal_ , like there wasn’t poison in the sky almost every other morning.

“Made a friend, Changgu?”

“Yes,” he smiled, despite himself. “His name is Yanan.”

***

Changgu and Yanan spent most of their mornings together after that. They would wander around the village until the sun was too hot, comfortable in the silence of each other’s presence as they inhaled the summer air. Somehow, it was still fresh and light.

They walked in fields and winding roads that led them anywhere around the small village. They liked gravel roads better than soft soil, and turned the corner whenever they were nearing the eerie home of the town’s mystic. Their favorite thing to laugh softly about was the stray kitten that seemed to grow bigger every time they passed it, taunting people for scraps and always getting away with it. Changgu told Yanan he wondered what the cat may have felt like, or if it knew that there was a war going on miles away. If it knew that some people had to settle for scraps now, too. If it cared.

Above all, Changgu and Yanan liked it most when they were under the shade of a sturdy tree, somewhere far away from where most villagers would go. It took a while for Yanan to say words of his own, but Changgu eased him into it and he spoke more, more, more. The older boy liked filling up silences, but he found that when Yanan spoke, it was the most peaceful sound he had ever heard. It was a voice shaky and silenced but real, one that sounded like it had seen tragedy, and yet it brought Changgu the most genuine serenity he had ever felt. It bugged at his mind for a time before he brought it up.

“Your voice,” Changgu said, his back against a tree, Yanan beside him. “It’s very… rough.”

Yanan just hummed, understanding. Changgu continued.

“My mother told me you were sick,” he stated softly, careful. “Is that why?”

“Maybe,” was all Yanan said, voice raspy as ever, before deciding he should probably say more. “Maybe it’s because I don’t talk much.”

“You talk to _me,_ though,” Changgu stole a glance. “You think I could hear your real voice if you talk a bit more?”

Yanan looked at him questioningly before nodding. “I can try.”

“Can you tell me what’s making you sick?”

Changgu was glad that the boy beside him didn’t seem to shy away when he asked. Yanan just stared blankly, playing with the tips of his fingers.

“My chest. Lungs. Or... something,” he uttered quietly. The birds chirped around them, and he continued. “Breathing isn’t always easy. The family that took me inーI can’t help them much on their farm because I get tired easily, or even with cooking, because of the smoke. I can’t really do much of anything.”

“I like walking with you, though, here. The air is fresh, unlike where I came from, and you don’t walk too fast. People always walk too fast, and I end up coughing my lungs out trying to keep up, but you don’t have to go _too slow,_ either, because sometimes you walk like you never want us to go home, and it _is_ a bit much.”

Changgu giggled at that, and even more so when Yanan followed suit. He was right; Yanan’s voice became smoother and smoother the more words he said, and it sounded like music and honey and daybreak all at once. He wanted to hear more, wanted to coax it out of him like that stray kitten looking for scraps, tell him _yes, maybe I’d rather not go home when I’m with you_. Then he remembered what they were talking about, how somber it was in contrast with the melody of Yanan’s voice, and decided to settle on that before anything else.

“You don’t _look_ sick, though. I think you look perfect.”

Yanan furrowed his brow but smiled, refusing to look at Changgu and settling instead on the ground between his knees. “Thank you?”

Changgu laughed brightly, probably the heartiest he had ever laughed with Yanan. Probably the heartiest in his lifetime. It was new, and just _good_ , and he wished it never had to end.

“You have no moles on your skin. No marks,” Changgu said, reluctantly reaching out to trail fingertips over the skin of Yanan’s cheek. The taller boy let him. “My mother told me that that means this is your first life in the universe. Maybe that’s why you always look so fascinated at every little thing we see.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Something in your eyes when you see a bug on a tree. Or pick a flower from its stem. You look like you’re seeing it all for the very first time.”

“Really?” Yanan sighed, a bit bashful about being caught. “I wonder how you notice those things, Changgu.”

“Maybe I’m seeing _you_ for the very first time.”

Yanan looked in awe, but something in his eyes told Changgu it was more amazement than fear.

“So, this is your first life too?”

“No. I feel like I’ve been alive for ages.” Changgu contemplated it for a bit, before settling on a real answer. “ _You_ , however, are a breath of fresh air.”

Yanan looked him up and down before responding. “But you don’t have any marks on your skin either.”

“Maybe that’s because I only found you now.”

Changgu stood up carefully, offering his hand out to Yanan before he continued.

“My mother also told me that the marks on your skin are where the person you loved in your past life kissed or touched you the most. Held you the most.”

Yanan knew what Changgu was implying, but he made no mention of it, for now. “You really believe that?”

“Everyone believes _something_. And it’s nice to believe that when we die, maybe I’ll get to find you again.”

“Well,” Yanan began, patting Changgu’s curls on his head playfully before laughing. “Thank you for reminding me that I’m going to die.”

There was a heaviness that pulled at Changgu’s heart at those words, but the light in Yanan’s eyes was too prominent for him not to look up with the same twinkle, into his perfect smile and glassy skin and remind him that he would be there with Yanan to face reality, when he knew he could no longer escape it.

“None of that,” Changgu said. “Not yet.”

“Okay,” was all that came after.

Changgu made a swift move, placing a light peck of his lips on the juncture of Yanan’s jawline and neck, smiling at the way Yanan flinched back in surprise.

“Changgu, that tickles!”

“Not my fault you’re freakishly tall,” Changgu smirked.

“If you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just asked me to lean down,” Yanan smirked back.

Yanan’s voice was the clearest that Changgu had ever heard it to be, and he did exactly what he was told.

“Kiss me, then.”

Yanan leaned down, and it was exactly what they did.

***

The two continued their morning walks together over the summer, and earlier in the mornings when the seasons started to change. They would sit under trees, talk about the past and the future and the explosions they would sometimes hear at night. On blue-sky days they would play games under the sun, chase each other and climb trees but never anything too fast or tiring for Yanan to handle. Changgu took care of him, found ways to make Yanan breathless without killing him slowly.

They didn’t mention their conversation much, about death and past lives and next ones. Often they would be reminded of it when they went in for chaste kisses, but it didn’t have to be said out loud. They chose not to mention it when the stray cat stopped appearing, and they didn’t give in to fear when the sky started becoming green and orange more often than it was blue. On too-quiet nights, Yanan would choose to stay in Changgu’s home, letting the shorter boy nuzzle into his neck before they fell asleep.

Sometimes Yanan wanted to kiss Changgu deeper, hold onto him for dear life and let Changgu keep him afloat beneath his hands. Both of them wanted to believe that there was something more than empty hope, something that was theirs to keep in their reach for as long as they liked. 

But nearly half a year had passed since they let themselves believe in hope, forgetting that it wasn’t something that either of them could afford.

_“Changgu, wait, wait. Stop.” Yanan tried to catch his breath, already ragged and hurried._

_Changgu pulled away, concern marking his features. He wondered if they had gone too far, if he had kissed a little too hungrily. He brought his hand up to Yanan’s cheek, and the other to his chest, feeling the pound of his heartbeat._

_“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?”_

_“No,” Yanan said, as his breathing started to even out. “I justーI can’t breathe.”_

_“Okay, okay,” Changgu replied, eyes downcast but filled with understanding. “I’m sorry.”_

Yanan hated it. He hated that Changgu felt that he had to be sorry for wanting to love him. Yanan hated that loving Changgu could kill him.

But Changgu stayed, and Yanan fought. They held each other on quiet nights, safe against the recurrence of ash and noise. They continued to walk the winding paths of the village, settling with sitting back against sturdy tree trunks when Yanan was no longer strong enough to try and climb them. Eventually they walked as slow as Yanan had told Changgu not to, before, and neither of them made any comment about it as they did. The days were quiet, and soon became _too_ quiet, and they stopped walking and stayed inside instead, the calm before the storm.

“Are you happy?” Changgu asked, smiling at Yanan like he always did.

“Of course I am. Thanks to you.”

They smiled at each other, kind and frail but true. Changgu was glad that at the very least, the seasons they spent together left their mark. The touches and glances and wordsーthey mattered. It made every ounce of painful love worth its weight in gold.

***

It was a blue-sky day in April when Yanan’s lungs gave out, one day before he would have turned eighteen. Changgu was by his side, saving the tears for when Yanan no longer had to see them.

_“Come find me, okay?”_

It was the only time they had mentioned it since the first conversation, but Changgu knew what Yanan meant, anyway. He always did.

_“I will.”_

Changgu followed a year laterーtoo young and too earlyーwhen the war caught up to their village in smoke and ashes and an ugly, deadly, orange sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter: angel by sarah mclachlan
> 
> i ALMOST cried,, kudos and comments are very much appreciated! or yell at me on [twt](https://twitter.com/violetholdsme?s=20) or [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/violetholdsme) ^_^


	2. reverence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **reverence** _/ˈrev(ə)rəns/_  
>  : (noun.) deep, profound respect and honor for someone or something.
> 
> He and Yanan fought well especially in silence, memorizing each other’s habits and movements while somehow still remaining unpredictable. It was like they danced; Yanan moved with every microscopic ounce of practiced precision, and it was a challenge Changgu had never experienced elsewhere. Someone had said to him once: everyone else helped Changgu become good. The best, even. And after all of that, still, whenever he moved with Yanan, it made him _more_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyy chapter 2!! this is much much longer than the first one and i must confess i enjoy it very much :>i hope you feel the same
> 
> **cw for this chapter: knives, mentions of violence/war**

The second time around, things did not necessarily go as planned. But things in this universe rarely ever did, and Yeo Changgu and Yan An were the same souls nonetheless. 

Changgu told himself it was nothing out of the ordinary to take part in some healthy rivalry. Competition fueled him, urged him to grow stronger, fight better. There was nothing wrong about wanting the top spot, or keeping his eyes on the prize a bit more fiercely than most. Everyone in their order wanted the same thingーbut a few wanted it more than others. That was exactly what he told his roommate, Yuto, who only responded with confusion (and perhaps subtle apprehension).

“I don’t see why that’s necessary, when we’re all on the same side. We should be helping each other out.”

“We _do_ help each other out. We _are_ all on the same side. All I’m saying is that all of us will become good, honorable soldiers of the royal guard, someday. But only one of us is going to be the _best_ ,” Changgu stated, matter-of-factly. “Why shouldn’t I want that to be me?”

“Everyone is trying to be the best,” Yuto stared at him, perplexed. “Not everyone does it by getting into heated arguments with a fellow apprentice in front of their commander.”

Changgu rolled his eyes, pulling out a clean change of clothes from the drawers. “Yanan just pisses me off.”

“Because he’s better than you?”

“He is _not_!”

“You two _are_ the best in our order.” Yuto cocked his head to the side, smirking as he sat on the bed. “If only you stopped trying to cut each other’s heads off every time you’re handed a weapon.”

“Fuck off, Yuto.” Changgu scoffed as he walked out the door and towards the showers, his smile exasperated but fond as he shook his head.

He thought about it as he went, eventually shoving it to the back of his mind as he recalled the more important events of the day. The training was tiresome and borderline cutthroat, but everyone in his order knew what they had signed up for. Changgu recalled the day and pinned down in his mind every maneuver he executed poorly, every instance he let his guard down, every misstep in his footwork that could have ended his life had he actually been in battle. He focused on the techniques like they were frameworks in his mind, just as artful as they were technical, like every inch between his fingers and a blade made a different sound as it moved along with him. The sword was heavy the first time he ever touched it, but now the heaviness flowed, weighing him down in a way that mattered.

“Hi.” 

Then came a familiar, melodic voice, snapping Changgu out of his thoughts before he could step into the showers. 

“No, thank you,” Changgu replied flatly, not bothering to turn in the direction of the voice before switching the water on.

“Harsh.”

Changgu rolled his eyes as hot water flowed onto his skin, loosening up his muscles as he fished out the memory he had pushed into the corner just a few minutes ago.

_“Wrong.”_

_That was the third time he had said it, and Changgu was starting to get irritated that he wasn’t legally allowed to cut the other boy’s head off. He knew that their commander was watching, though, and it wouldn’t go over well if he dropped his sword in the middle of a sparring session to punch Yanan in the face._

_“Shut up, Yanan. I know what I’m doing.”_

_“Fine. Then do it again.”_

_Changgu charged forward again, continuing to clash his sword against Yanan’s shield, perfect and practiced._

_“No.” Yanan said, retracting the shield in front of him. “You’re hesitating.”_

_“In what damn way was I hesitating, Yanan?” Changgu challenged, irritation consuming him more by the second._

_“I have given you multiple opportunities to go for the kill, and you still keep clashing your blade with my shield like you’re playing a fucking drum. I don’t know if you noticed, but I_ am _wearing impenetrable armor, and_ you _are sparring with a blunt, non-fatal sword. And if I were actually your enemy, you’d be dead right now because you pull away every time you’re about to impale my lung. So what the hell are you doing, Changgu? I thought you were the best in our order?”_

 _“This is_ your _fault,” Changgu hissed, trying desperately not to lose his temper. “You’re doing this on purpose.”_

 _“_ You _should be able to adapt if I’m throwing you off your game, hm?” Yanan kept his expression neutral, and it only made Changgu angrier. No way in hell was he allowing Yanan to think that he could throw him off his game. Or that he would_ ever _hesitate to slice Yanan in half._

_Changgu put his weapon forward again, fiercer this time, a little less controlled. Yanan wouldn’t let up._

_“Stop holding back, Changgu!” There was more of a challenge in his tone, now. The string snapped in Changgu’s head, and he wished he had known then that one big difference between them was that Yanan was good at keeping his inside voice, while Changgu was not._

_“Stop being a fucking asshole!”_

_He yelled it with a particularly loud clash of his sword on Yanan’s shield, and the other boy only looked at him with a devious gleam in his eyes. All eyes were on them but Changgu didn’t care, and Yanan didn’t seem to, either._

_“I’m just trying to help.” His tone was playful, teasing._

_“Maybe work on your own shit first, Yanan.”_

_“Wellー”_

_“That’s enough.”_

_The two were silenced by their commander, who only gave them a stern look as he walked closer._

_“I will let you two off with a warning, because you are the best apprentices in my order,” he sighed, “unfortunately. But make no mistake, the next time will warrant grave consequences. Understood?”_

_“Yes, sir,” they said in unison. Yanan looked smug, and Changgu, still agitated._

_“Then that will be all for today,” shouted their commander to the rest of the group, exasperation evident in his tone. “I expect you all to be competitive, but not disruptive. Get out and get some rest. Apparently, you all need it.”_

Changgu switched the water off, wrapping his towel around his waist and making his way to the door before anger could bubble up inside of him again, just from being in the same room with Yanan and his smug expression and all-too-innocent remarks.

“It was a bad day, Changgu-ya. We all have them.” Changgu heard the voice while he was halfway out the door. “Don’t worry about it too much.”

Yanan’s voice ignited something in Changgu. The feeling was foreignーakin to anger, maybe even pain, but not quiteーand all he knew was that he wanted it to go away. 

“Don’t patronize me, Yanan.”

Changgu walked out briskly, not waiting for a response, leaving the door to slam behind him as he retreated back into his own quarters.

***

Training the next day was better. Changgu hadn’t made a single misstep with his hands nor his footwork, and the events of yesterday were near forgotten.

“Nice, Changgu!” exclaimed Yuto, after the other boy got through his block. Changgu smiled, satisfied, delighted to be back on top of his game now that he was sparring with Yuto. (Someone he didn’t want to punch.)

Their order had been put under a lower-ranking officer for today, a man only a few years older than them by the name of Yang Hongseok. Their commander had more pressing matters to attend to, and Changgu didn’t know if he had _told_ Hongseok not to let him spar with Yanan, but he was grateful either way. Yuto was a perfect sparring partner, a skilled warrior, an even better _person_ , and it was only an added bonus that they had developed a sort of friendship over the time they had spent in the royal palace. Changgu admitted it was foolish to favor one adversary over the others, but it benefited him in some respects, too.

“Glad you’re not with Yanan?” Yuto questioned, avoiding his attack.

“Do you _have_ to bring this up now?”

“No,” Yuto moved his shield like it was part of him, trying to throw Changgu off. “Just wanted to see how well you did if I tried to distract you.”

“He does _not_ distract me.”

“Well, yesterday, apparently, he did.”

“That was yesterday.”

Changgu was right, for the most part. His petty rivalry with Yanan wasn’t something he chose to dwell on at times like this. Sure, Changgu hated when he hovered over him at mealtimes, taunted him playfully during training sessions, gave snide remarks in the fucking _showers_. It annoyed Changgu that the person he had to compete with for the top spot was this boy who was _reserved_ and _coy_ despite being a little demon, but it didn’t distract him when the time came to improve his own skills.

Changgu swung his sword, moving his feet in time with his torso, visualizing the framework in his mind and executing the attack perfectly.

“Damn.” Yuto was on the ground, and immediately took the hand offered to him by his sparring partner. “Good one.”

“Thaー”

“It was wrong.”

Changgu was confused upon hearing the remark from behind him. He half-expected it to be Yanan, but his rival was in clear view a few feet away from him, watching the scene unfold along with the others in their order.

“I’m sorry?” Changgu questioned, turning back, and he was face-to-face with their commander for the day, Yang Hongseok.

“Footwork was sloppy. That won’t do in a real fight,” he said, sternly. “You got lucky.”

Changgu wanted to tell him he was wrong. He knew his moves were perfect. He just did. Yuto knew it too, they both knew Hongseok was _wrong_ and probably hadn’t been watching as closely as they were. Changgu wanted to tell him off, and he would have done it calmly, respectfully. But after his outburst yesterday, he didn’t know if it was wise to do it at all. So he didn’t.

“Yes, sir,” was all that came out of Changgu’s mouth. He and Yuto shared a look, subtle enough not to be caught.

Hongseok was about to walk away, and Changgu and Yuto picked up their weapons once more, ready to continue. Changgu re-centered himself as the room around him came back into focus, but he was soon interrupted by another voice thrown across the room. This time, it was a little bit more familiar.

“It was perfect, actually,” uttered Yanan, as innocent-sounding as always, as he walked towards where Hongseok stood with the two others.

“Sorry?”

“His footwork. It was perfect. The attack was executed well.”

Hongseok huffed. “I saw what I saw. Are you trying to challenge my authority?”

“No, sir,” replied Yanan. “But you _didn’t_ see. Yuto’s body was shifted slightly to the right when Changgu attacked, which made both his movements and his timing perfect for the situation. Most people don’t notice, but Changgu is a _very_ skilled fighter. Sir.”

Yanan’s expression was neutral, bordering on serious, and Changgu couldn’t tell what expression he had on his own face at that moment. But he could see that it was making their pseudo-commander almost fume with anger, and he braced himself for whatever would happen next.

“Do not interfere with things that don’t concern you,” Hongseok said, pointing his finger to Yanan’s chest. Something about the gesture made Changgu’s stomach turn for a split-second, though he didn’t understand why.

Changgu turned back towards Hongseok. “I apologize for his behavior.”

“Tell him that your commander will hear about this.”

Hongseok turned on his heel to walk away, without another word. When Changgu turned back towards Yuto, Yanan was already walking back to where he was a few minutes ago, not looking back.

“So much for sworn enemies,” Yuto said, picking up his sword and shield once more.

Changgu laughed it off, rolling his eyes and choosing to focus instead of polishing his technique a bit more.

“Shut up, Yuto.”

***

It was late at night on one of the days they were actually allowed to rest, but Changgu was taking advantage of the now-empty training room to keep his skills polished. He held two sharp daggers, one in each of his hands, practicing with the weapon he didn’t usually get to wield when they trained in groups. Sword fighting felt natural to him, but something about the daggers flowed easier, felt somehow less confining and gave him more room for control. He liked the blades, he had rarely ever erred in wielding them.

Changgu threw one of the daggers across the room, landing it right where he aimed, just a few inches beside the right arch of the doorway.

And of course, the person standing _in_ the doorway flinched back.

“You want to kill me _that_ bad?”

“You doubt my aim _that_ much?” Changgu retorted. “Shame, Yanan.”

Yanan pulled the knife out of the wall, walking casually towards the other boy with a smirk on his face.

“What would you have done if it wasn’t me?”

“Don’t worry, I knew it was you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. No one else bothers me this much.”

Yanan chuckled. Changgu was glad the boy knew that (though there was truth to what he said,) he was only joking, wasn’t looking for a fight. Changgu grabbed the dagger when Yanan handed it back to him.

“Room for one more in here, Changgu?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yes.” Yanan smirked, again. “Spar with me. Choose your weapon. No swords.”

“These, then” Changgu said, twirling around the daggers that were already in his hands. “And you?”

Yanan was already at the corner of the room where the blades and the bows were, eyeing the weapons like they were new toys. He picked something up before walking over, a smug pout on his lips.

“You serious, Yanan?” Changgu questioned, scoffing. “I could cut that thing in half.”

Yanan ran his fingers over the wooden staff in his hand, smiling at the object like they had just shared secrets. “You underestimate me.”

“Don’t go running your mouth like that when you lose.”

“It’s a fair fight,” Yanan looked down at Changgu, gaze piercing, their faces were awfully close. “Trust me.”

A fire bubbled up inside Changgu at that. He brought his chin down, swift enough to hide the smirk on his face before Yanan could see. He wanted to see this boy fight, wanted to be challenged, wanted to know what Yanan would try to say to him when they were alone. Changgu wanted all that, and somewhere, in the back of his mindーhe knew he wanted so, so much more.

Changgu attacked first, charging at moderate speed, just enough to get started. Yanan reacted quickly, throwing his staff in the air before ducking under the slice of Changgu’s blades, avoiding them quickly and catching his own weapon in his hand with perfect timing. Maybe Yanan was rightーthis was going to be more or less a fair fight. Hell of an interesting one, too.

“So, why’d you do it?” Changgu asked, straight to the point. If they were going to engage in sparring small talk, Changgu was _not_ going to glaze over the fact that they pretty much hated each other’s guts.

“Do what?” Yanan replied, after an attack of his own.

“Defend me in front of Yang Hongseok. What’s the agenda?”

Yanan looked confusedーgenuine, not mocking. “Does there have to be an agenda?”

“Yes,” Changgu ducked before Yanan could hit him straight in the chest, “You hate me.”

“And _who_ told you that?” It was Yanan’s turn to dodge this time, keeping his feet firmly in place. “I _respect_ you.”

Changgu should have expected it, but he was bewildered anyway. It was a virtue most expected of them: honor, respect. But he didn’t think Yanan would be so upfront.

“And yet you messed with me so I would slip up in front of our commanding officer.”

“I did not _mess_ with you. I _corrected_ you, because you were _wrong_ .” Yanan held his hands up, a signal for both of them to take a breath. “And then I _defended_ you in front of Hongseok, because that time, you were _right_.”

What Yanan was saying made sense, but Changgu didn’t know how to admit that to himself quite yet. So he charged forward again after catching his breath, not saying a word in reply, letting his and Yanan’s weapons do the talking for them.

And it flowed. He and Yanan fought well especially in silence, memorizing each other’s habits and movements while somehow still remaining unpredictable. It was like they danced; Yanan moved with every microscopic ounce of practiced precision, and it was a challenge Changgu had never experienced when sparring with any other boy in their order. It was like Yuto had said to him once; everyone else helped Changgu become good. The best, even. And after all of that, still, whenever he moved with Yanan, it made him _more_.

In the midst of the fluidity, Changgu only snapped out of his thoughts when he realized that one of his daggers was in Yanan’s hands now, and the taller man moved behind him to close the blade around his throat.

“I win.” Yanan uttered, a breathy whisper against Changgu’s ear.

“Not yet.”

“I don’t see you escaping.”

“I am _not_ letting you win.”

“Answer something for me. Then I’ll let you go."

Yanan’s grip didn’t soften but his voice did, becoming curious and gentle. The unknown feelings returned to Changgu, consuming him in some unexplainable kind of pain. The older boy’s voice was different when he spoke again. It may have been too miniscule a change to notice, but Yanan sensed the hint of brokenness. Vulnerability.

“What’s the question?”

Changgu felt different being so close to the other boy, locked in by his hand and a blade. The warmth of his skin didn’t help much, either.

“Why did you want to join the royal guard?”

Changgu shut his eyes tight before answering, “I have to protect people.”

“ _Have_ to?”

“Yes, Yanan. I have to.”

“Would you protect _me_?”

Changgu doesn’t know why the pot bubbled over when he heard those words. A sharp feeling filled up his chest, pain coming over him but he didn’t know why. In the split-second that Yanan’s grip loosened ever so slightly, his voice wavering just a little, Changgu pried himself away from the headlock, the way they had practiced hundreds of times in training. He grabbed the staff out of Yanan’s hand, too, pointing it at his chest and raising his head in defense. He had the power this time. Or so he thought.

“Shut up before I kill you, Yanan.”

“I don’t think you want to do that.” Yanan placed his hand atop the staff in front of him tentatively, before pushing it down slowly as he walked towards the other boy. “You’re still avoiding hitting me in the chest.”

Changgu had no idea why he was meeting Yanan with no resistance. He had no idea why he didn’t exactly hate it, either.

When Yanan was in front of Changgu, as close to him as he was before they began, Changgu knew he was in a state of complete surrender. Whether or not it was his choice, the staff in his hand was fully at his side, and his sparring partner was hovering over him, staring him down.

Yanan moved the dagger in his hand swiftly, under the tip of Changgu’s chin to tilt it up, and Changgu responded just as quick. He stared into brown eyes, not needing to pull awayーnot needing to be anywhere, nor with anyone else. He knows he probably would’ve looked up at Yanan anyway, even without the knife under his chin.

“You fought well tonight, Changgu,” was all Yanan said.

“So did you,” Changgu replied, wrapping his fingers around the blade in Yanan’s hand, and taking it back. “Good night.”

Yanan uttered one last thing, before proceeding towards the door.

“Will you stop hating me, now?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Good.” Yanan smiled, not waiting for a reply before making his exit. 

Changgu swiped his thumb over the handle of the blade in his hand, feeling over where Yanan had just been.

“Good.”

***

The weeks after that night were good. Changgu was on his game, they would soon become members of the royal guard, and seeing Yanan didn’t want to make him punch a wall.

The younger boy hadn’t bothered him as much lately, though he definitely still behaved in his snarky, mischievous ways. Yanan had asked their commander once if he could try sparring with Changgu again, to which he got an exasperated ‘ _What kind of damn game are you playing now, Yanan?’_ and Changgu only laughed before interjecting with, _‘Actually, sir, I’d like to take him up on his offer.”_

When they sparred, they moved like they did the first night, although a bit more silent at Changgu’s request. He wasn’t a fan of the small talk, the indecipherable ways that Yanan could rile him up. They flowed in some weird, familiar way, and their commander and spectators alike watched them in awe as they landed and dodged blows one after the other. 

Another wonderful thing about their silent movements, Changgu realized, was that he could get a nicer look at Yanan when he wasn’t running his mouth. Yanan’s hair was black but already graying in some places, and he always smiled as if he was telling the world he could definitely still smile a bit bigger. He had a few moles on his neck that marked his skin like a puzzle. There was a particularly prominent one right under his jaw, and Changgu liked to tease him for it when they would spar after midnight. Poking the mark with the tip of a blade was “irresponsible, annoying, and extremely ticklish” (Yanan’s words), but Changgu liked the way it made Yanan fight more fiercely, and he wasn’t going to let him be the only one poking daggers under people’s chins.

They had worked out a rhythm, competing like rivals but improving and trusting each other almost like friends, and they got into squabbles from time to time but it was a thrill neither of them wanted to give up. They were the best in their order, a good match because they were no match for each other.

Soon, they would all become members of the royal guard. Only one in their order would be deemed the best, the strongest, given a higher rank than the rest. Admittedly, it was superficial: competing for a title and the glory. But Changgu and Yanan wanted it, they fought for it harder than most, honing their skills and techniques. But at the end of the day, they knew that both of them deserved that honor. When it came down to it, they would all fight for the same cause, protect the same people, be at each other’s sides.

“Getting nervous so close to our inauguration, Changgu?” Yanan asked him while catching his breath, drinking down a cup of water now that the training had become so intense.

“Nice try, Yanan,” Changgu smirked, catching his breath as well. “I wouldn’t even think of it.”

***

A week before their ceremony was to take place, Changgu was awoken from a dreamless sleep after hearing stomps and shouts in their hallway. Yuto was starting to shift as well, sitting up in his bed while his eyes were adjusting to the darkness of the small room. It was most probably an hour before dawn, judging by the shadows cast by the window.

“What’s going on?”

Both of them flinched back when they heard three loud bangs on their door, Changgu scrambling to open it while Yuto trailed quickly behind him.

“There has been an attack on the palace!” came the familiar voice of Yang Hongseok, yelling frantically as he paced through the halls. “We need as much help as we can get on the frontlines! Get your armor and weapons and _go_!”

They were all still dazed from sleep but followed the officer’s orders anyway, scrambling to the armory for whatever they needed. Changgu didn’t think about anything else as he walked out to where the battle was taking place, trying not to get intimidated by the sheer number of their enemies. They must have been grossly outnumbered if apprentices were being called to fight. But that was not something appropriate to have at the forefront of his mind as swords clashed together and arrows flew through the air, so he pushed it back and focused on defending, carrying out the maneuvers and movements he had polished for so long.

Yanan was on the same battlefield, warding off attackers with a shield, making his kills from afar with a bow and his quiver of arrows. He was the best at archery in their order, and his skills were being put to good use. 

The numbers of the opposing battalion started to dwindle. Yanan doesn’t really know how long it had been since they began fighting, but he was out of breath and out of arrows. He let go of the bow and picked up a sword from a dead soldier, bowing lightly before he ran off.

Yanan was met with more enemies as he drew closer to the entrance of the palace garden, where he recognized some of the boys from his order engaged in combat. Some of them were on the ground, fighting between dead and alive, and Yanan wished his heart didn’t have to ache at the sight. He tried to focus on fending off attacker after attacker, which he did fairly well, but his bones were starting to tire and his spirit was failing a little bit more with every familiar face he saw wounded.

Yanan did not see Changgu, but Changgu saw him. He caught Yanan’s figure out of the corner of his eye as he fought with his own adversary right outside the garden gates. He was only a few meters away, and he looked like he was about to collapse, but Changgu knew he had to focus on more pressing matters before trying to help him.

It clicked inside his head, somehow. He admitted it to himself a long time ago, that Yanan always had him distracted from what was in front of him. Whether it was a good or bad thing, Changgu had no idea; on one hand, doing what he did was not about the glory, and his mission had always been for others, anyway. He wanted to _protect_. On the other, he couldn’t really protect anyone if he was dead.

But there was a voice inside Changgu’s head that played for precisely three seconds as he stood on the battlefield, and he knew exactly who it belonged to. In front of him was a soldier of the enemy who was intent on getting past him, and would have the upper hand if Changgu looked away for even a second. And just a few feet away was Yanan, struggling to catch his breath, an arrow now flying straight for his back.

_Would you protect me?_

“Yanan!”

Yanan heard Changgu’s voice just in time to react, moving away slightly and falling to the ground as the arrow hit him in the leg, instead of anywhere fatal. He tried to shift on the ground to find where Changgu’s voice came from, to no avail. He searched frantically, trying to get up, but his body betrayed him. When Yanan caught sight of brown curls level with him on the ground, tears began to prickle at his eyes.

“ _No!”_

“Yanan?”

The voice above him was Yuto’s, and Yanan slumped back on the ground as the war went on around him.

“Yuto…”

“I’ll bring you somewhere safe, come onー”

“No… Changgu…”

“Changgu?”

“Help him,” Yanan said weakly, trailing off. “Please…”

He pointed his finger in Changgu’s direction as he blacked out. The last thing he saw was Yuto running in the direction Yanan pointed him in, worry and tiredness written on every feature of his face.

***

When Yanan woke up, he was still lying on the battlefield, but the fight was over.

Yuto hovered over him, blood running down his face, but he lit up when he saw Yanan’s eyelids flicker open.

“He’s alive!” Yuto shouted, relieved, to someone Yanan couldn’t see.

“Is it over? Did we win?” Yanan asked weakly, still dazed and aching all over.

“Yes, yes, we did,” Yuto responded, nodding frantically. 

Yanan gave a relieved sigh, but soon remembered something else he needed to know before he could be okay.

“Where’s Changgu?”

***

Six days later, Yanan walked into Yuto’s quarters, still limping from his injuries on the battlefield. He only stood in the doorway, eyes hovering over the empty bed beside Yuto’s. They shared a look, broken and understanding, and Yuto spoke up first.

“Came to say goodbye?”

Yanan walked inside, shutting the door behind him. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“I can go.”

“No.”

It was a day before their order’s inauguration ceremony, which the king and queen decided would push through as planned. _Those who lived through the battle became heroes, continuing the legacy of those that did not_ , or something like that. 

“You shouldn’t leave, Yanan. Changgu wouldn’t want you to.”

Yanan laughed dryly, nodding his head.

“I can’t even walk properly. I can’t be in the royal guard with this,” Yanan said, pointing to his injured knee.

“It will heal.”

“Yes,” Yanan scoffed. “But some things won’t.”

Yanan’s eyes hovered again over Changgu’s empty bed, and a single tear fell from his left eye. Yuto started to tear up too, before speaking up again. 

“Come on, wasn’t he your sworn enemy?”

“Shut up, Yuto,” Yanan smiled as more tears started to fall. “I think he was starting to warm up to me, actually.”

The two of them shared a sad laugh.

“You aren’t even staying long enough for their burial ceremony later today.”

It left a bitter taste in Yanan’s mouth. The ceremony, the world _burial_ itself. The fact that the boys from their order that died in battle were being buried in a lesser known area of the palace, a ground for the casualties of war. A place for those taken too early, the ones who became heroes before they had the right to. Yanan _abhorred_ it, because Changgu was more than that. Changgu _deserved_ more than that.

“Don’t worry. I’ll visit him, when it’s not all for show.”

Just then, Yuto broke down where he sat on his bed, letting the tears fall as Yanan walked over and hugged him, speaking softly.

“You were a good friend to him. It’s okay. It’s okay,” Yanan’s own voice betrayed him as his shoulders started to shake, just holding onto Yuto because the only thing they had in common was that they cared about Changgu, but couldn’t protect him the way he had protected them.

Yanan let go of Yuto, standing up and walking towards the door without a word. 

“Yanan?”

Yanan looked back as he was about to walk out, against his better judgment.

“Yes?”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Yanan only gave a small nod and a practiced smile, before heading out of the door, and leaving the royal palace for good.

***

Yanan did as he promised, visiting Changgu’s grave as often as he could after the buzz from winning the bloody battle had died out. The palace and the kingdom celebrated, but all Yanan could think of was what he had lost. It all happened too fast; one moment Changgu was alive and fighting, and in the next he was not. And Yanan learned that the universe simply didn'y play fair.

Every single time, Yanan would bring any sort of white flower he could find in his hometown. Being at the palace was difficult as it was, and the journey going there just as much. But he went, all the same, for the rest of his life, whenever he needed to be reminded of how the past made him who he was.

On one occasion, Yanan took special care to hide an all-too-familiar dagger in his coat before visiting the cemetery. He placed it neatly on the ground beside a bundle of daisies, the loss still fresh in his mind.

_“You protected people well, Changgu. I hope you know that.”_

_Yanan knew he was talking to himself, but there was no one to watch him mourn, anyway. He could only hope that somehow Changgu was listening, that he could hear the words Yanan uttered only for him._

_“You protected_ me _.”_

_Yanan pressed his hands into the daisies lying by the gravestone, beside the dagger he stole from the armory before leaving the palace, and forced himself to continue through tears._

_“I never got to tell you that I joined the royal guard because… because I wanted to protect_ myself. _I thought that protecting other people, learning how to fight… I thought it would make me better. I thought the royal guard would make me_ more _. But it didn’t,” Yanan sniffled. “_ You _did.”_

On some days, this one included, Yanan would see Yuto paying his respects as well. The younger man would tell him stories of how he was doing now as a member of the royal guard, and Yanan would in turn try to make his own stories about his village as interesting as he could. Whatever it was, it was comfortable and they understood, and Yuto never once asked as the years went by why Yanan never seemed to heal from the loss. 

“Do you think he regrets it?” Yuto asked in earnest today, when Yanan’s face looked more cold and empty than sorrowful.

“No,” Yanan replied coldly, playing meaninglessly with the petals of white roses between his fingers.

“Well,” Yuto sighed, “it’s good that you know.”

Yanan looked up at him through his eyelashes without lifting his head, and neither of them spoke a word after that.

When time came for Yanan to leave, he pulled himself out of his reverie, placing white petals all over the plot of land.

_I’ll come and find you soon._

Yanan stood before the headstone, bowing deeply before his fallen companion, before returning to the path of the rest of the life he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter: [from the grave by james arthur](https://open.spotify.com/track/6rxziHRkOEcBgKUIzPMzW2?si=k9rarDGeT_CIPpuHjPOpFw)
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated or come yell at me on [twt](https://twitter.com/violetholdsme?s=20) or [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/violetholdsme) for feedback <3


	3. innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **innocence** _/ˈinəsəns/_  
>  : (noun.) the absence of corruption; purity.
> 
> “It will be fine.”
> 
> “And if you’re wrong?”
> 
> “If I’m wrong, it will be messy,” Changgu said, looking down. “But that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”
> 
> Yanan let his stoic expression fade away into a defeated sigh, looking at the other man softly despite his mind telling him not to, knowing he would follow Yeo Changgu to the end. No matter how stupid he was being.
> 
> “Alright. I trust you.”
> 
> Changgu smiled sincerely at that, all the tension from earlier dissipating. Yanan’s heart ached at the sight, but he paid it no mind. There was really only room for one of them to start letting their heart do the talking. Yanan was the one with a gun in his belt, so he already knew it wasn’t going to be him.
> 
> “Thank you, Yananie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3!! this is the longest one so far and idk how i feel about it yet,, but it's here! i hope you enjoy~
> 
> **cw for this chapter: implied sexual content, guns, knives, mentions of violence and blood**

Yeo Changgu and Yan An were the same souls in this life as in all the others. Only this time, whether they knew it or not, they were hardened with the urge to survive.

The two of them had their hands in nearly every dirty little affair in their city. Yanan was more indifferent to his job than fond or apprehensive一yes, what they did was unconventional, ( _illegal_ , if that’s the word you want to use,) but it was his job, and this was his life, and it had been this way ever since. 

It wasn’t so bad, when he thought about it一they traded in expensive jewels, weapons, and puppeteered every major organization in the city一you name it. Never mind the fact that those things were either commandeered or stolen, and never mind the loose ends Yanan’s had to tie up when someone had refused to talk, or when they started talking too much.

Yanan didn’t complain, because Yeo Changgu was not that bad of a boss, anyway. Whether he was a bad _person_ was a question that Yanan didn’t care much to think about, because whatever Changgu was, Yanan would have to be the same by extension. They worked that way, ever since Changgu had taken over their organization, and Yanan simply did his job. Bodyguard or right-hand-man or whatever anyone called it一he knew what was in the job description, and he carried it out. Perfect to a T, no questions asked.

Except, what the two of them had been doing for the past couple months or so was not in the job description _at all_.

The first time it happened was after a deal at the harbor that turned ugly pretty quickly一Yanan remembers it well, because it was the first time in over a decade that Yanan had seen rage on Changgu’s features instead of his usual calm, practiced neutrality. The deal hadn’t gone wrong, but it didn’t exactly go right; shots were fired and important ties severed, but they got what they came for in the end. Changgu always just hated the mess of it all, when things didn’t go as planned. 

Changgu was tired that night, struggling to keep his composure, the pot threatening to bubble over. But that’s what Yanan was there for, after all一the doer of dirty work, a trusty sounding board. He let Changgu take the anger out on him instead of their underlings, he let him yell and curse and Yanan didn’t mind because they trusted each other, they were deep in this illicit business _together_. Changgu was out of breath from pouring out his rage while Yanan’s expression remained stoic, and Yanan thinks that must have gotten some kind of rise out of the older man.

Because one thing led to another, and soon Changgu was in Yanan’s bedroom, and they took out their frustrations _there_.

That was two months ago, almost three, and Yanan doesn’t mind that it’s been happening consistently. Tonight was one of those nights; Yanan was buttoning his shirt back up while Changgu lay in bed, watching him intently with mischievous eyes.

“Fix your hair, Yananie. Don’t want to get caught, now, do we?”

Changgu was on his side, propped up on his elbow and batting his eyelashes in an attempt to look innocent and tempting all at once. Yanan just rolled his eyes, a soft smile on his face as he retorted.

“You think they don’t know what we’re doing, sweetheart?”

Yanan smirked as he caught the other man blush at the pet name.

“You’re right, they probably do,” Changgu sighed, still eyeing Yanan as he got dressed. “But _I_ don’t know what we’re doing, Yananie. Care to tell me?”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Yanan was getting curious, admittedly, wondering what kind of game the other man was playing at this time.

“We should have a talk,” Changgu said, covering himself with the bedsheet, “about our relationship.”

Now, Yanan hadn’t expected that, but he was prepared for it nonetheless. They had already worked out their boundaries, and perhaps Changgu just needed a little reminder.

“We don’t have a _relationship,_ sweetheart,” Yanan said, looking at Changgu on the bed as he buckled his belt. “We have sex.”

“Well, we’ve had a relationship long before we started having sex.”

“Yes,” Yanan smirked, “a _professional_ one.”

“You’re no fun,” Changgu replied with a slight pout, wanting Yanan to say more.

“I work for you because _my_ father was indebted to _your_ father, but now they’re both dead,” Yanan stated, matter-of-factly. “And I would rather not be dead.”

“A little fun won’t kill you.”

“ _Feelings_ will. And we’re having fun as it is. Don’t tell me you’re going soft, sweetheart.”

“Ah,” Changgu sat up, “that’s why I just do the _talking,_ and _you_ handle the guns.”

Yanan looked at him, fully dressed now, shaking his head in a sort of fond disbelief.

“Yeah, well, your personal _bad cop_ has some things to take care of tonight,” Yanan said, picking up the gun on the table to put into his holster, locking eyes with the man on the bed. “Don’t wait up for me.”

Changgu scoffed at his teasing, and opted to change the subject instead. “Don’t come home smelling like blood.”

“That’s not for you to worry your pretty little head about.”

 _Home._ Yanan flinches a bit at the word as he replies: the way Changgu looked when he said it, the way it sounded coming from his lips. It’s too miniscule a reaction, too quiet for Changgu to even notice, but Yanan feels it. He ignores it for now, prying his eyes away and waiting for Changgu to speak before he walks out the door.

“Kiss me goodnight before you go?”

Changgu laughs as he says it, and Yanan knows he’s teasing, joking. He ignores the part of him that wanted Changgu to mean it, though he would have refused anyway.

“Hm, will dinner be ready when I get back at midnight, too, _honey_?”

Changgu scoffs and rolls his eyes, laughing as Yanan began to turn the doorknob. “Asshole.”

“You could be a bit nicer to me, I’m about to do your dirty work.”  
  
“Yeah, whatever,” Changgu replies, before adding, “Be safe out there.”

Yanan simply nodded before leaving the room, closing the door gently behind him. He was only left to ponder the shift in Changgu’s tone when he said his last words, in a mix of wonder and confusion, because he felt like he had heard them a million times before.

***

A few days later, Yanan walked into the all-too-familiar interrogation room, in a building on the far edge of their compound. Inside already were Changgu, two of their other henchmen, and their next informant (most probably also their next victim), tied up in a chair in the middle of the room with a black bag over his head.

“Good, you’re here,” Changgu said, looking at Yanan as he walked in. The mood seemed to shift when he closed the door, and he prepared for whatever they would do next. They had gone through this process countless times. It was just another part of the job.

Changgu spoke up again, addressing the two other men, presumably the ones who brought the guy in the chair in the first place. 

“So, what is this you brought for me?”

“It’s one of Hwitaek’s guys.” The smaller of the two replied. “Found him wandering around outside the compound.”

“Mm,” Changgu hummed, walking slowly around the man in the chair. He pulled the bag off of his head and cupped his face from behind, and the man adjusted to the lighting of the musty room, making eye contact with Yanan when he could see clearly.

The person was only a few years younger than them, Yanan reckoned, but he wouldn’t call him a _man_ so much as a _boy_. His features were soft and his expression timid, and Yanan wondered why Lee Hwitaek would send _him_ to taunt them, when he probably had dozens more experienced men in his organization. Hwitaek and his crowd were leagues behind Changgu’s, but they were the closest thing to a _threat_ that they had dealt with. So Yanan reminded himself that if there was anything he had learned from living the kind of life that he did, it was that appearances were deceiving, and it was wrong to underestimate any kind of adversary.

“Who the hell are _you_?” The boy spat out at Yanan, defiant. Changgu kept his hands where they were but tightened his grip, causing the boy to wince slightly.

“Kang Hyunggu. Don’t look at him. Look at _me_ ,” Changgu said, voice commanding.

Yanan wondered briefly what it might have been like for the boy一Hyunggu一to be seeing this for the first time. Yanan had witnessed Changgu play this role day after day since they started, and he could predict his every move. He knew how it would end. He almost pitied the boy that didn’t.

“How do you know my name?” Hyunggu asked as Changgu moved to crouch down in front of him, tilting his head.

“ _You_ ,” Changgu said, almost a whisper, “are Lee Hwitaek’s unplayed card.”

Yanan stifled the smile that threatened to break onto his face, because there was something surreal about memorizing Yeo Changgu, about knowing every trick he had up his sleeve.

“I know all about you, Kang Hyunggu,” Changgu continued, gaze lingering as he stood up. “Now, how much do _you_ know about _me_? That’s the _burning_ question...”

At the slightest shift of Changgu’s tone, Yanan knew it was his cue to cock the gun in his hand, making a show of it as he stared Hyunggu down with unwavering neutrality. Hyunggu flinched, just as expected, but regained his composure quickly before speaking up.

“If you’re going to kill me, just do it,” he said, “because I’m not gonna fucking talk.”

“I just need to know how much you’ve seen, kid. You could have been spying on us for weeks. Maybe even _months_ . You know we don’t take chances when we’re in this business, right? Your _precious_ Hui-hyung taught you that, right?”

Yanan admired it, really, how _good_ Changgu was at this. Changgu smiled at the reaction he elicited from Hyunggu, who was now struggling against the rope tying him down.

“Shut the _hell_ up."

“Feisty,” Changgu said, clicking his tongue after. “You knew Hwitaek was sending you to us on a suicide mission, and yet you’re here because you wanted to impress him _so bad_. Isn’t that right, Hyunggu?”

Hyunggu was struggling more, now, and the two henchmen held him down. Changgu continued his taunting. 

“Or… maybe it’s _not_ Hwitaek you wanted to impress. Maybe it’s that other guy一tall, with the brown hair, who’s absolutely _wrapped_ around Hwitaek’s finger… What was his name, again? Yananie, what was his name?”

“Shinwon,” Yanan replied, keeping his expression as stoic as ever, though he quite enjoyed the thrill that came with their practiced dynamic.

“Yes, Shinwon. Wouldn’t you _love_ it if he noticed you? Started looking at _you_ , instead of his _oh-so beloved_ Hwi一”

“ _Shut the hell up!”_

Yanan couldn’t help the smirk that emerged when Hyunggu snapped. He pitied him, but he couldn’t help be amazed at how earnest this boy must have been to act _so goddamn stupid_.

“Alright, I’ll stop messing with you, since you asked so nicely,” Changgu cooed, crouching in front of Hyunggu once more. 

“We could stay here for hours, Hyunggu-ya, but I wouldn’t want to waste our precious time. So I’m giving you one last chance: talk, and we can work something out, or Yananie here can kill you like you asked.”

Hyunggu rolled his eyes before responding. “I’m not talking.”

Yanan walked in front of Hyunggu when Changgu looked at him, signaling. Changgu made his way behind Hyunggu again, and Yanan pointed the gun straight at the boy’s head, staring him down. He looked up at Changgu before doing anything, knowing the other man liked his theatrics before they finished someone off.

“It’s not your fault,” Changgu said, looking down at the boy almost sweetly. He stroked Hyunggu’s hair from behind, talking down to him so kindly that it was almost chilling, considering Yanan was on the other side with a gun pointed right at Hyunggu’s face.

“They always send the young ones to die, don’t they? Such a shame. I would’ve taken care of you.” Changgu paused. “You’ve been such a darling. If only Hwitaek and Shinwon cared about _you_ as much as they cared about _each other_ , hm?”

Hyunggu let a tear slip from his eye as Changgu said those words, his expression still of anger and defiance, and Yanan guided his finger towards the trigger.

Something seemed to shift, when Changgu swiped the tear away from Hyunggu’s cheek with his thumb. His breath hitched and he looked at Yanan, who only stared back, confused. Yanan kept his composure, however, sensing the question in Changgu’s expression, nodding a quiet _yes_ even if he didn’t know what he was saying yes to, because he trusted Changgu with all his crazy schemes. They would have fallen apart years ago, if he didn’t.

“Are you scared, Hyunggu? Do you want to live?” Changgu sounded sincere. He sounded warm. _That,_ Yanan thought, _is probably what I said yes to_ , because it was the first unfamiliar thing that Changgu had done today. Changgu didn’t speak that way, at least not to whoever was tied up in the interrogation room chair, and Yanan could only hope that he knew enough about him to navigate this uncharted territory without sinking.

“Yes,” was Hyunggu’s reply, almost just a breath of air, a subtle wisp into the air around them.

“Okay,” Changgu said, sternly, abandoning the sweet, caring act (if it had been an act at all), and walking out the door as swiftly as he had come in. Yanan followed, after putting his gun back in his holster, leaving the two henchmen to look at each other in confusion before locking Hyunggu in the room. They didn’t know what else to do with him, after what had just transpired.

“You’re gonna have to explain what just happened, sweetheart,” Yanan said as they walked, keeping his tone neutral before hearing what Changgu had to say.

“Of course I will,” Changgu said, walking a bit more, before stopping at the end of the hallway.

“Okay,” Yanan started. “So _what_ the hell was that?”

“Exactly what it looked like. I meant every word I said.”

Yanan didn’t believe that, a million more questions popping up in his mind. “Sorry, but we are _not_ letting him go. We’re on the same page here, right? Or have you _really_ gone soft, now?”

“We’re letting him _live_ , not letting him _go_. That’s it.”  
  
“You want him on our side? _You_ were the one who said he was like Hwitaek’s loyal _pet_. Or Shinwon’s, for that matter.”

“He is naive, and loyal, and _changeable_ ,” Changgu said, standing his ground. “We could use him. And we would do it _right_.”

“ _He_ could have been acting, for all we know.”

“I don’t think he is.”

“You _are_ going soft.”

“ _You_ are getting braver with your teasing, Yananie,” Changgu said, tilting his head to the side and smirking. “Don’t forget that you work for me.”

Yanan was all too shocked to return a smirk of his own. “You said it yourself when we started, sweetheart. You’re the face of this operation, but we stand on equal ground. I’m simply stating my opinion.”

“And your opinion has been heard and considered, but I get the final say,” Changgu replied, making a grab for Yanan’s wrist, but the taller man instinctively pulled away. 

Changgu felt some pain in his chest at that, right above his heart. He retracted his hand, hiding the hurt as best he could. His tone was tentative when he carried on.

“He could do us some good, Yananie. His death would be such a waste.”

“I’m only trying to prevent yours.”

Yanan didn’t know where the words came from, why he and Changgu were saying them so much, so openly lately. Everything that was unsaid before was beginning to filter out into the open, and he wondered if it meant something. He wondered if it was why he pulled away when Changgu tried to touch him, despite the force that told him to do the exact opposite.

“It will be fine.”  
  
“And if you’re wrong?”

“If I’m wrong, it will be messy,” Changgu said, looking down. “But that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

Yanan let his stoic expression fade away into a defeated sigh, looking at the other man softly despite his mind telling him not to, knowing he would follow Yeo Changgu to the end. No matter how stupid he was being.

“Alright. I trust you.”

Changgu smiled sincerely at that, all the tension from earlier dissipating. Yanan’s heart ached at the sight, but he paid it no mind. There was really only room for one of them to start letting their heart do the talking. Yanan was the one with a gun in his belt, so he already knew it wasn’t going to be him.

“Thank you, Yananie.”

And yet, as Changgu walked away, Yanan let himself feel the strain as the distance between them grew bigger. After all the times Yanan got to be close to him, got to feel Changgu’s skin on his own, the feeling that managed to linger on him was the space一the subtle, excruciating tenth of an inch between himself, and the warmth of Changgu’s fingertips that he decided he shouldn’t have.

***

“Getting comfortable?”

It was a couple weeks after Hyunggu had been found wandering around the compound. Since Changgu had let him live, and even let him _stay_. Yanan hadn't spoken to him much, until now.

“You could say that.”

Hyunggu was situated in an old safehouse room. It wasn’t the same building as all the rest of the members of their group, but not too far off either. He was treated fairly well, despite the fact that he was locked in and heavily guarded一the room was not ugly nor unlivable by any means, and there were plenty of novels on the small shelf to keep him company. Changgu dropped by whenever he could as well, building some sort of trust with the boy, making Yanan wonder whether Changgu was sincere in his intentions or if Hyunggu really was just another one of his personal projects.

“I still don’t trust you, Kang Hyunggu.”

“I know,” Hyunggu replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. “That’s your job, right? Hui-hyung told me all about you, he said Changgu had a bodyguard who fussed over him like a doting parent, said you were一”

“You need to _forget_ ,” Yanan turned sharply towards him, “About your old life. And it doesn’t matter _what_ my job is. All you need to know is that I do it. And I make sure to do it _well_.”

“I know that,” Hyunggu replied, seemingly unfazed by the change in Yanan’s tone. “Consider me warned. You had a gun to my face the first time we met. But I’m not scared of you.”

“That makes two of us.”

There was a beat of silence, and they simply stared each other down, waiting for the next remark.

“You don’t seem to like me very much. In fact, you don’t seem to care much for anything at all.”

Yanan nodded in agreement, leaning back against the door. He figured if he was going to have to work with Hyunggu in the coming days, he would have to establish some semblance of trust between them. Rapport, at the very least. So he let Hyunggu continue, keeping up the air of indifference that the boy had just alluded to.

“But,” Hyunggu began, “there is one thing you _do_ care about.”

That piqued Yanan’s interest, and he crossed his arms over his chest before he responded. “Enlighten me.”

“We both know what I mean,” Hyunggu smirked, like he was about to play his ace. “Everything you do is for him. I don’t think you _need_ to be here, Yanan. And yet, you are.”

Yanan exhaled sharply, knowing full well what Hyunggu meant. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You get your hands dirty for him because you know he’s _good_ ,” Hyunggu replied. “You don’t mind taking the fall. You’d rather not lose him to this ugly business you call a life. We’re the same, Yanan. We both know what it’s like to take all the hits for someone you lo一”

Yanan had enough at that point, lunging forward and seizing Hyunggu, grabbing him firmly by the neck as he kept him trapped in between himself and the headboard of the bed. Hyunggu’s eyes were a mix of fearful and defiant, and Yanan spoke softly because he knew it somehow sounded stronger than when he laced his words with venom.

“He’d forgive me, if I killed you,” Yanan began, releasing the chokehold and keeping Hyunggu locked in place with his gaze instead. “Much quicker than he’d forgive you for being a defiant little prick.”

Yanan moved away from him, smirking because he knew he made his point.

Hyunggu gulped, touching his skin where Yanan’s hand had just been. He rolled his eyes, despite the tremor in his hands. “Understood.”

Yanan was satisfied with that, leaving the room when Hyunggu laid on the bed and turned away. He knew this entire arrangement could end in flames a million different ways, no matter how careful they had been, but he pushed that aside for now. He tried not to bounce the conversation around in his head, willed himself to know better and not fall for everything Hyunggu had said to mess with him. Thoughts of Changgu filled up his mind, the boy he had known since they were just two clueless sons of a mafia boss and his right hand, up to no when they had taken on the positions themselves. Changgu was, in most ways in fact, what Yanan lived for and killed for. That was as far as he was willing to admit.

But Hyunggu did say one more thing: _We’re the same, Yanan_. There was something more he could have said but Yanan cut him off, and Yanan didn’t know if he did it out of annoyance or because he was afraid to hear it, afraid to realize it was true. _We both know what it’s like to take all the hits for someone you lo_ 一

“What were you doing in there?”

Yanan snapped out of his thoughts when he saw Changgu, now walking beside him on the path to their residence. They were nearing the building but Yanan slowed down, in no rush now that Changgu was by his side.

“In where, sweetheart?”

Changgu softened a bit at the name. He always did, really, but Yanan wonders why he only noticed now.

“In Hyunggu’s room. What were you doing with him?”

Changgu's voice was firm, almost commanding, and it sent a shudder down Yanan’s spine. “I still don’t trust him. I just wanted to make sure he knew his place.”

“Good,” Changgu said, slowing his pace down a bit. “You don’t need to do that again.”

Yanan stopped in his tracks when Changgu did, some kind of sureness in the older man’s eyes that Yanan had never seen when they were out in the open like this. It shook him, somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach because suddenly he felt exposed, like prey under a predator’s gaze.

“What, are you jealous?” Yanan questioned.

Changgu tried to reach for his hand, just like the last time. And like the last time as well, Yanan forced himself to flinch away.

“You had your hands on him,” Changgu said as he pulled his hand back, hurt clear on his features. “I saw you.”

Yanan scoffed. “I was proving a point. You know how it is.”

Yanan continued walking towards their building, going at his normal pace as Changgu struggled to catch up. 

“Stop walking away from me!” Changgu said, almost pleading, as they neared their destination. He caught Yanan by the wrist and the taller man shook him off harshly, an expression on his face that Changgu couldn’t quite decipher.

“Stop一”  
  
“Why do you keep pulling away, Yananie?"

Yanan locked eyes with him, confused. Changgu almost looked sad, like he was at a loss, like he was bearing the softness of his heart that no one ever got to see.

Well, no one except for Yanan.

“Sweetheart, I told you. We don’t have a _relationship_.”

“I know you don’t mean that.”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“I lov一”  
  
“Shush,” Yanan cut him off. “Do _not_ say that. It will kill you.”

“Love won’t kill me.”

_Ours might._

“If you’re getting possessive and emotional because we’re fucking, you need to sort it out.”

Yanan was about to walk into the door of their building, but stopped abruptly at Changgu’s next words.

“Kiss me.”

Yanan stared back, puzzled. “No一”

“If you really don’t feel anything for me, then you'll do it.”

Yanan turned back towards him. He didn’t know if Changgu was challenging him with the hint of desperation in his voice, the sliver of hope. But Yanan took the bait, standing in front of Changgu who had his back against the wall now, looking sincere and innocent and untainted, just for him.

“One kiss?” Yanan asked.

“One kiss.” Changgu’s warmth was radiating off of him, and Yanan could feel it in their proximity. “Kiss me any way you want, here, out in the open, with our clothes on. One kiss, Yananie. If you don’t feel _anything_ , then I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

Yanan considered it for a moment. It was only a mere, second, really, because it didn’t take much before he was bringing his hand up to Changgu’s cheek, fingertips making their way into the beginnings of his reddish-brown curls. Changgu didn’t make any move except for his brown eyes locking with Yanan’s, but Yanan knew they both felt the surge, the very feeling that Yanan had denied them both whenever Changgu tried to reach out and he pulled away. He braced himself, determined to get it over with一at least, that was what his mind told him to make up for his uneven breaths and shaking hands.

Changgu’s lips were soft and warm when Yanan kissed him, like home against the night’s cool air.

Changgu wasn’t touching Yanan anywhere except on his mouth, and somehow it was better than all the times Changgu was underneath him, touching every inch of skin he could find. Yanan brought his other hand up to Changgu’s chest, holding him gently before he could melt.

Changgu was starry-eyed when they pulled away, his gaze and his voice anticipating. “See? That wasn’t so ba一”

Yanan shut him up with another kiss, slow and aching, and he doesn’t care about anything else. It didn’t seem so frightening to admit, anymore. Because the very moment he agreed to kiss Changgu, give him all he wanted and more, Yanan knew he was done for.

They were both breathless when Yanan finally pulled away, a little confused and a little bit high on the feeling, but he didn’t dare let go.

“Let’s go to bed, sweetheart?”

Changgu’s smile reached his eyes and he pushed himself away from the wall, into Yanan’s arms.

“Okay.”

Unbeknownst to them, a lean figure lurked around the corner, hidden by the shadows cast by their compound’s fluorescent lights. He watched as the two men walked up the stairs to their own rooms, muttering to himself in his quiet cunning.

“Ah, would you look at that,” Hyunggu said to himself, smirking, walking quickly to climb back into the window of his room before he got caught. “Hui-hyung was right.”

***

That same night, Yanan lay awake in bed, Changgu fast asleep beside him. Or so he thought.

The older man was starting to stir, his sleepy eyes immediately landing on Yanan before settling to lay his head on his chest. Yanan brought his hand up instinctively to caress Changgu’s hair, listening intently to his partner’s half-asleep words.

“Yanan,” Changgu began, a little muffled by his own blankets, but Yanan was listening, so intently, so focused and determined to take everything he had to give.

“Yes, I’m here.” 

“You are the best thing in my life.”

Yanan didn’t say anything to that, and he supposed it was fine. Changgu was drifting off again, anyway, and it was enough that he knew he would say the same thing back, when the time came for that.

For now, at least, Yanan just held him in his arms. Maybe, just maybe一they would be able to get this right.

***

The fork on Kang Hyunggu’s plate kept dragging, screeching, and it was starting to get on Yanan’s last nerve. Yanan had tried to stop counting the days since Hyunggu had gotten there, (exactly one month, one week, and five days), because it didn’t look like he was leaving any time soon. But the boy’s mischievous mannerisms weren’t lost on Yanan in the slightest, and they bothered him to no end because Hyunggu seemed like he had more to hide than what met the eye.

“Chew louder and I’ll shoot you,” Yanan said, shooting him a glare from his own seat at the table. Only the two of them were in the room; Yanan kept his guard up because there must have been a reason why Hyunggu specifically chose to join him for lunch. At four in the afternoon, no less.

“Yananie,” Hyunggu began, letting the fork drop with an irritating clang. “I have a proposition for you.”

 _Here it comes,_ Yanan thought. Hyunggu was definitely not just some sacrificial lamb; his entry into their group was easy. _Too damn easy_. Yanan eyed the secret compartment nearest him, a space underneath the wall clock that had at least some old shotgun inside. His curiosity was growing by the minute, irritation starting to build up at the way Hyunggu called him _Yananie_ , like it was for him to have in his mouth. Yanan needed to remind him it _wasn’t_.

“One wrong move and you’re dead, Hyunggu. Use it wisely.”

“Actually, _Yananie_ ,” Hyunggu smirked as Yanan narrowed his eyes, “you’re not the one who has the power here.”

Yanan let him continue, gauging the situation before doing anything rash.

“In a few minutes一this compound, all your guys, and this entire operation, will be _o-ver_ ,” Hyunggu singsonged, leaning forward in his chair, plate of food completely forgotten. “You were right not to trust me, Yananie. Your warehouse is being raided as we speak.”

Yanan’s eyes widened and he stood up, but Hyunggu was quicker.

Hyunggu lifted his shirt up the slightest bit, pulling out a gun from the holster around his lithe waist, pointing it right between Yanan’s eyes. Yanan stood in place, stalling for time while he tried to look at the situation from every angle.

“Why the hell should I even believe you?”

“Whether or not you believe me won’t change the outcome, _sweetheart_ ,” Hyunggu said the last word with some kind of demonic joy, and Yanan tensed up even more. “My job right now is to kill you, but your death would be such a waste. Hui-hyung and Shinwonie might like it more if I bring them back a valuable, _extremely dashing_ present.”

Yanan had had enough time to think, and enough of Hyunggu’s threats. Rage was starting to build up as the thought of Changgu crossed his mind suddenly, how he was faring if everything Hyunggu said was true. Sure, Changgu _was_ a crime boss一he knew his way around guns and fistfights and all those ugly things, but Yanan always made sure he never had to come across them. There was nothing else on Yanan’s mind except getting to wherever Changgu was, and he let it guide him as he made his next move.

“Sorry about this.”

Yanan did it expertly, ducking under the gun Hyunggu had pointed at him and taking advantage of his height to grab the smaller boy by the neck. He threw Hyunggu into the wall, not too hard but not at all gentle either, and grabbed his gun for good measure after confirming he was knocked out. The force of the blow would buy him a few minutes, he supposed. He opened the compartment under the clock, taking out the shotgun and some bullets, running to wherever Changgu might have been. 

He had to _protect_ him, this time. Something about the gunshots that started ringing out as he stepped out into the open was more deafening than usual, like standing in the middle of chaos was suddenly frightening and uncertain. Like he hadn’t done it a million times before and come out the other end unscathed.

But that wasn’t at all what needed to be on his mind when he had two guns in his hands and his life on the line. He set out to find Changgu, hoping no one had gotten to him first.

***

Changgu was in his bedroom when the first gunshot rang out, and someone kicked his door open soon after.

“What the _fuck_!” Changgu yelled, standing up from his seat, the man at his door swinging at him with a knife in his hand.

Changgu recognized him: he was one of Hwitaek’s guys, well-built and skilled with his weapons. There was a gun in his belt and Changgu wondered why he hadn’t used it, choosing to chase Changgu around the room and slash at him with his knife in close proximity instead.

Changgu bolted towards the door when he got the chance, jumping over the bed and some desks, but the other man wasn’t relenting. As Changgu was about to grab the doorknob, the knife came flying at him, landing on the floor after lightly slashing his palm, and he hissed slightly at the feeling.

The other man seemed satisfied that he had slowed Changgu down, and he pointed the gun at him, going for the kill straight away.

It was like time had slowed down, at that moment. The barrel of a gun was pointed straight at him; Changgu wasn’t used to that. He assumed that maybe Yanan was, but his partner wasn’t here. Changgu eyed the knife on the floor, the same one that had just cut him and made him feel like his palm was on fire. It lay forgotten on the ground and somehow Changgu felt a pull, some force that came over him, one that was his own even if he had never known its name. And heavens be damned, even though Yanan fought most of their battles and shot most of their enemies dead, Changgu was the goddamn _leader_ of an organized crime ring, and he was _not_ going down without a fight. He decided he was not going down _at all_.

Changgu grabbed the knife before he knew what was happening, hurling it to the far end of the room at the other man and landing straight where he aimed for. He had no idea where he had learned to throw with that strength or precision, but he did. The man dropped to the floor with a knife in his throat, gun falling out of his grasp.

Changgu grabbed the weapon out of his hand as the man choked, he himself surprised by what he had just done. 

But he was on a mission now. He was determined. It only fueled him more when he thought of Yanan, who was probably contributing to the gunshots he could hear outside. He wasn’t worried about Yanan; Changgu trusted him with his life. But if Yanan hadn’t yet killed that sneaky bastard Kang Hyunggu for his betrayal, Changgu was sure as hell going to do it himself.

***

They immediately found each other when Changgu ran down the stairs out of his building, and Yanan caught sight of the blood on his clothes.

“Sweetheart, your hand,” Yanan said, worry clear on his features.

“It’s just a cut, Yananie. I’m fine. We need to get to the warehouse, is that where the gunshots are coming from?”

“Yeah,” Yanan paused, clearly still concerned, but continued after a beat anyway. He eyed the gun in Changgu’s hand, but didn’t make any mention of it. “Let’s go. Stay behind me.”

They made their way around the compound to the warehouse as the gunshots got louder, filling the air with conversation as they ran.

“Hyunggu’s doing?” Changgu started.

“He got through all of our security measures, somehow. Pointed a gun at me during lunch.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Yanan stayed silent when they neared the warehouse doors, gunshots and voices getting louder.

“I don’t know.”

Yanan simply looked at Changgu before he tried to open the doors, bringing a hand up to the older man's hair before asking sweetly. “You ready?”

Changgu nodded softly, safe into Yanan’s touch.

Yanan pushed the doors open, Changgu trailing behind him, both of them with guns blazing. Some of Hwitaek’s guys were already running out of the warehouse with whatever they stole, but Changgu and Yanan got rid of them fairly quickly. Some of Changgu’s men were still fighting, some dead on the floor, and Changgu looked around for whoever may have started this mess in the first place.

Yanan was in a fight with some other man when Changgu spotted them: Lee Hwitaek and Ko Shinwon, inching closer toward them like bullets weren’t ricocheting all over the place. 

“Stand down!”

Lee Hwitaek’s voice echoed across the space, halting everything else that went on around them. His companion, Shinwon, wrapped his free hand around his waist nonchalantly, waiting for whatever would happen next.

Yanan was at Changgu’s side in a second, gun pointed at their two rivals who remained unfazed. 

“Now, Changgu-ya. Tell your guard dog to stand down,” Hwitaek said, “I only want to talk.”

Changgu scoffed, and Yanan kept his gun pointed where it was. “You’ve killed dozens of my men. I think you’ve talked enough.”

“You needed to know it wasn’t wise, stealing our precious Hyunggu.” Hwitaek tried to get closer to Changgu, but Yanan stepped forward as a warning.

“Where the hell is he?” Shinwon interjected, angry, but Hwitaek held him back. Changgu took the opportunity to say some things of his own.

“You sent him here to die. You don’t care about him.” Changgu smirked, and Shinwon was unable to hold himself back.

“You piece of shi一”

“Now~” Hwitaek said again, calmly, gently taking his companion’s hand in his. “Let me make something clear, Yeo Changgu.”

Shinwon eyed both Changgu and Yanan hungrily. He was loyal and protective, Changgu observed. He let Hwitaek continue talking, but he made his presence known.

“You have underestimated me一 _us_ 一for too long. You think you know what it means to _care_ for someone? You are a decorated fool,” Hwitaek sighed dramatically. “You let him stand so bravely next to you, knowing he’s the one person you have never been, and will never _be_ able to save.”

Yanan tensed up as all eyes fell on him, knowing full well what Hwitaek was saying, what he meant. Changgu, on the other hand, was starting to falter; his heart rate betrayed him as it sped up, not knowing where those words came from, or why they left the same hollow in his chest as when he looked at daisies or when the sunset was too colorful or when he threw the knife into the guy’s throat, just a few minutes earlier.

“Shut up.”

“Time’s up, Changgu,” said Hwitaek. “And besides, if we didn’t care about Hyunggu, why would we stall for this much time just so we could let him have a little present?”

Hwitaek placed a chaste kiss on Shinwon’s lips after those words, and Yanan and Changgu simply shared a confused look.

All their questions were answered when two shots rang out and Yanan fell to the ground, two bullets in his back, straight out of Hyunggu’s gun where the small boy stood in the doorway.

The air was knocked out of Changgu’s lungs as he fell to his knees beside Yanan, no longer hearing the symphony of gunshots that resumed after Hyunggu’s. Yanan was muttering something that Changgu couldn’t decipher. Changgu was simply frozen, unmoving, wanting to reach out but not knowing where to hold him.

“Changgu… run… please, you have to go…”

“I’m not一 can’t leave you一 no一”

“Please… What do I have to say for you to go, Changgu? _I_ _love_ _you? I'm sorry?..._ Please, just go… For me… Changgu…”

Changgu shook his head, but he couldn’t speak. Tears were streaming down his face the second that Yanan said his name; it was always _sweetheart, honey,_ or the occasional _you got it, boss,_ with him. His own name never sounded more perfect than it did in Yanan’s voice. _I love you_ never sounded more real than it did just then. Changgu wonders why he only got to hear it before Yanan was about to一

“Don’t look at him,” Hyunggu said to Changgu as he approached, hitting the butt of his gun to Yanan’s head, hard. “Look at me.”

Changgu forced himself to pry his eyes away from the blood flowing down Yanan’s face, into his clouded eyes. He looked instead at Hyunggu, not knowing if what he felt was anger or desperation or pain.

“Should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”

Hyunggu didn’t hesitate to take another shot一at Changgu’s chest, this time一and he fell beside Yanan as the younger man started to cry too, toeing the line between dead and alive.

If Yanan was being honest, the only thing he thought about as he tried to stretch the moment out longer was how long he could try to hold on to Changgu before they both met their end. Yanan knew he was worse off, right now, but if the fight in the warehouse didn’t end soon, Changgu would bleed out too. There was nothing more he could do; his legs weren’t moving like they were supposed to, and his vision was getting blurry as it faded in and out from nothingness into the red of the blood that dripped down his face. The last thing he saw before his vision faded was Changgu laying beside him, saying nothing but Yanan’s name and what he could hear were variations of _I’m sorry_ , crying and in pain and expression filled with regret. There was nothing to see anymore but black, but Yanan thinks that even if it was the last thing he’d do, he would protect Changgu, up until the end. Like he always had.

“It’s okay.” Yanan moved his hand the slightest bit, inching towards Changgu weakly as his time ran out. He found Changgu’s hand soon, enough, sliced palm and all, holding onto it loosely but as tight as he could manage. “It’s not your fault.”

Yanan also mouthed _I love you_ , though no sound came out, desperate to make sure Changgu knew, in any way he still could.

That was the last thing Yanan said before Changgu saw the life disappear in his eyes, holding onto his palm before he heard the voices talking above them.

“How cute,” Hyunggu said to Shinwon, who was now at his side, holding onto him the same way he did with Hwitaek just minutes ago. “They’re like a painting, Shinwonie. Holding each other while they die.”

“Hmm,” Shinwon said, tilting Hyunggu’s chin up to go in for a kiss. “You did well today. Our precious little flower.”

Hyunggu beamed at the praise, looking down at Changgu again with his mischievous eyes and the barrel of a gun.

Changgu sees the love in Shinwon’s and Hyunggu’s eyes, that stupid trust and pride they had for each other. The same sureness Hwitaek had, too, especially when they were all three of them, together. Changgu knows, when Hyunggu says his final words, that he should’ve seen it sooner.

“You know nothing about me, Yeo Changgu.”

The final shot rang out as another bullet hit Changgu, right in the head. 

Changgu was somehow glad that Yanan didn’t have to watch him die. Because after just having seen _Yanan_ die, everything inside Changgu was broken down and empty, hollow like he was only a lifeless husk.

The last thing Changgu recalled was what Yanan had said to him once, on a night when they lay together in bed, quiet enough to disappear into the moonlight because it was a promise that was theirs, and only theirs.

_Someday, sweetheart, we’ll get this right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs for this chapter: lucky strike by troye sivan and don't be a fool by shawn mendes
> 
> i'd appreciate if you leave kudos or a comment ^_^ or again yell at me on [twt](https://twitter.com/violetholdsme?s=20) or cc <3


	4. clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **clarity** _/ˈklerədē/_  
>  : (noun.) the sharpness of image or sound;  
> : (noun.) the quality of transparency or purity;  
> : (noun.) the quality of being certain or definite.
> 
> “I’m just looking at you.”
> 
> “Why?”
> 
> “I’m afraid you’ll disappear.”
> 
> “Welcome to my world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 4 is here!! this is the one i looked forward to writing the most when i started, and if you're familiar with my writing style i think you'll know why hehe :0 djfksdh okay i'm building this up a lot but it's just the chapter i enjoyed writing the most so far so i hope it's enjoyable to read as well!
> 
> **cw for this chapter: implied sexual content, disability, implied/referenced homophobia**

Sometimes, space and time would collide through beats of shadow and light. Yeo Changgu and Yan An were the same souls in this life, worn down though they didn’t know it, colliding once more in obscure, familiar wavelengths. 

The first time Changgu met Yanan was in the local library, brimming with scholars and professionals and students without typewriters of their own. Changgu didn’t fit into any of those categories, but the building itself and the life that went on inside it was a unique scenery, perfect for his purposes.

Changgu had made a decent living off of the work of his own hands. Exhibits and auctions were relatively new to him but not unwelcome, in the same way people would turn their noses up to painters and artists but compete for the highest bids to have their pieces. His family was wealthy, reputable一Changgu guesses that as soon as they realized that what he did with pencils wasn’t just luck or nonsense, they enrolled him into the finest art schools, found the best of the best teachers, sent him off with a mission to be able to stand on the same ground as every cousin or sibling he had that was a doctor or politician or something of that sort. Because art wasn’t a career, apparently, unless he was dead or a prodigy, so his parents made him into the latter.

He didn’t despise it. Art was what he loved; he could capture life in a sketch一movement and moments even amid the stillness of what was on paper. Sometimes inspiration came to him from nowhere at all, colors laying themselves out onto a canvas into nuclear skies or vases of lilies. When nights came that he dreamt of emptiness, endlessness一he poured different shades of red until they melded together at the seams, and though covering the whole space still left something to be desired, tugging at his heart like taut string, it made him feel grounded. Connected. Like one day, he would find a worthy foreground for his mess of bloody acrylic, and he would know what it was all for.

He hadn’t come into the library to sketch this time, though. He walked the halls he had mapped out several times, whether in his mind or on paper, taking in the intricacy of the building’s decorative details. Muscle memory guided him towards a familiar room, quaint like it was meant to be hidden in plain sight, where all of the older art history books were stacked cleanly on shelves because they were rarely ever touched. Save, of course, by him.

There was something different this time, as he neared the familiar doorway. Changgu was immersed, a little too deep in his reverie to put his finger on it, but the aura of the hall shifted and he liked it. It felt cozy. It was as if suddenly, the curving gold on the walls was gentle instead of elegant, flowing like rich sound.

 _Sound_ 一that’s what it was. Changgu could hear it clearly as his hand turned the knob, surprised to see someone in the usually-empty room, fingers dancing on the keys of the grand piano like it was nothing. The music that resulted was haunting, flowy and yet sturdy like oil paint strokes when they dried down. Changgu wanted to bow lightly, greet the man playing and not forget his manners, but the moment seemed so precious and wonderful and any word Changgu could have said would have broken it down. So he shut the door instead, seeing as the man hadn’t really acknowledged him either, hadn’t turned his head nor flinched one bit nor made a single misstep in the music.

Changgu simply walked around as he browsed the array of shelves, the piano ambient as he ran his fingers across the books’ spines. He stole glances at the other man, wondering if he had even realized there was another person in the room. Changgu was sure that he had crossed the man’s field of vision several times一though there _were_ moments that he himself would be so immersed in a painting that the world around him disappeared. Perhaps it was the same, whatever art one dabbled in; and the musician’s movements were so precise and perfect that it wouldn’t have been a far off explanation that every part of him was drowned in the sound.

Changgu had a couple of books in his arms by the time the music stopped. It wasn’t abrupt in any way; it ended without fading, silence consuming them but the sound didn’t _disappear._ It seemed to continue, even, when the pianist finally spoke up, fingers still sitting atop the keys and eyes still looking forward at the instrument.

“So, what’s your poison?”

Changgu turned to him, books in his arms, wondering why the man had spoken without even turning to look.

“What do you mean?”

“People either come in here for the art books, the secluded typewriter, or the piano,” said the musician, removing his hands from the keys. “You know what _I_ came for, so what about you?”

Changgu took some tentative steps towards the piano, intrigued, eyes lingering on the man’s back which was still turned to him. When he reached his side, he replied.

“The art books,” Changgu said, waving them in his hands. The other man continued to keep his eyes forward.

“Ah, an artist. What medium?”

“Paint, mostly. Oils and acrylic.”

“Well, would you look at that, the pianist and the painter.” The man smiled, though he made no move to turn his head, choosing to look down at the piano keys instead. “I’m Yanan, by the way.”

“Changgu.” He moved towards the back of the piano, curious to catch a glimpse of Yanan’s face, maybe even lock their eyes. He leaned over the edge of the instrument, careful not to damage any of the delicate structures, something about Yanan pulling him in even as he moved farther away.

“Why won’t you look at me, Yanan?”

Yanan tilted his head up then, following the other man’s voice and looking straight into his eyes, and Changgu let his jaw drop as he took in the sight of grayish white pupils staring back at him.

Yanan wasn’t looking at Changgu, because he wasn’t looking at anything at all.

“Oh.”

“Yes,” Yanan said, smiling brightly. Changgu let out a breath, relieved that Yanan didn’t seem to be offended in any way. “Most people notice sooner, actually. So this was interesting.”

Changgu blushed at that, instinctively puffing some air out so Yanan could hear his bashfulness, somehow. _Why_ , he didn’t know, really, but he moved back beside the seat from where he was leaning on the piano’s edge.

“Can I sit beside you, Yanan?”

“Sure.”

Yanan scooted over a little, feeling around while making room for Changgu on his left side. When the shorter man was settled, Yanan turned his head to him, if only to show that he knew Changgu was there. He himself knew it by the dip of the seat cushion and the warmth that radiated from Changgu, but he smiled at the other man before placing his fingers on the keys to ground himself when his breath hitched at their closeness.

Yanan started playing, soft enough so they could still talk, head still turned towards Changgu as he let his fingers do the work.

“You play really well, Yanan.”

“For a blind person?”

“No,” Changgu enunciated, intrigued by his own boldness. “You’re better than anything else I’ve ever heard.”

Yanan’s lips quirked up softly at that, as he started swaying to his own music as he faced forward again. His shoulder brushed Changgu’s with every other sway. Changgu didn’t mind. 

“How come we’ve never seen each other here, before?” Changgu asked.

Changgu’s eyes widened slightly. Yanan smiled even brighter, like he could’ve teased Changgu for that one remark, but he didn’t. Changgu was suddenly aware of how much he used that word一 _see._ His life was, after all, built up on that very notion; people _saw_ his art, _looked_ at it, attached its value to how well it pleased their eyes. He hadn't ever considered how to navigate when he came across someone like Yanan, but Yanan was patient, he continued pressing piano keys with a soft smile as Changgu fumbled on his words and he spoke some of his own.

“I usually come here in the daytime to play, but the air was warm tonight,” Yanan said, in reply to Changgu’s inquiry. “Good decision, I think. Coming here. I met _you_.”

Yanan stopped playing, and the sound continued in silence like earlier. Changgu blushed even more at what Yanan said last, clutching the books in his hands and replying in earnest.

“Maybe I’ll come find you in the daytime more often, then.”

“That would be nice, actually,” Yanan said, smiling. “I usually like playing here because it’s secluded, but… that would be nice. Yes.”

“Duly noted.”

Yanan smiled, missing a beat before directing the expression to Changgu, still getting used to their own little way of seeing each other. 

They sat beside each other without conversation, after that, as Yanan played another piece just as complex and just as perfect as the previous ones. Unbeknownst to Yanan, Changgu was looking at him the whole time, taking in the way his eyebrows raised at every crescendo, how his Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded to every well-executed run. Changgu wondered distantly if it mattered what colors he would use to paint Yanan’s every feature. He wondered if he would ever find a way to let Yanan know he was beautiful, and have him know exactly what he meant.

“Music _is_ your poison,” Changgu uttered, referencing Yanan’s very first remark as he watched the pianist beside him commanding the keys, perfect even though he had no view of them. “I wish I could share mine with you.”

Changgu lit up when he was able to get a slight laugh out of Yanan, his shoulders shaking slightly as he played. “Hm, painters and their no-touch rule, right?”

“Maybe I’ll make an exception. For you.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Changgu.”

“Good,” Changgu replied, a bit more relaxed now. “That means I’ll find you again, then.”

Changgu left the room a few minutes later to get back home, letting Yanan finish about two more pieces (a rough estimate, because every note blended into the next one seamlessly,) before telling him he had to be on his way. Yanan said he would stay longer, play a bit more, and Changgu left him with wishes to be safe on his way back home. 

When Changgu walked out of the library, the air was warm as Yanan said it would be. He smiled under the glow of the street lamps, glad that he had made a friend, gained soft melodies to fall asleep to when they played themselves in his head that night (because they definitely would), and left with a promise that he and Yanan would find一not _see_ 一each other again.

***

They made good on their promise. It took a couple of weeks before Changgu visited the library at daytime, walking the familiar path to the secluded art history archives to find Yanan sitting in front of the piano, fingers working slowly into a relaxed tune.

“Hello.”

Changgu had abandoned the makeshift studio at his parents’ house today, in lieu of the small space at the library filled with books and a grand piano. He carried only a few colors of acrylic with him, a pencil, a palette, a small canvas and his sketchbook. He smiled as he shut the door, eyeing the way Yanan turned himself towards the sound of his voice.

“You’re back, Changgu?”

“Glad you remember my voice.”

“Well, I needed to remember _something_.”

Changgu set down his stuff on a stool, careful not to make too much noise over the melody Yanan was figuring out.

“Are you learning a new song?”

“I’m composing one.”

“That’s… wow.”

“Thanks,” Yanan replied, his voice a bit higher than usual at the praise. He brushed his fingers against the keys, making a show of it, gliding like the ivory was butter and the melody dripped on his fingertips. Changgu couldn’t help but smile.

“Can I stay here to paint, today?”

"Please," Yanan nodded. “By all means.”

“Alright.”

Changgu didn’t take long to set up, settling for simple pencil sketches first. There wasn’t much in the room to draw except bookshelves, maybe the typewriter, maybe the piano and the man playing it. There was a small window above said typewriter, but Changgu could only see so much. It was mostly just gray wall, gray streets. Gray people.

He recalled the first night he met Yanan as the man continued to work the piano keys. It wasn’t fast or flowy this time一Yanan stopped in between, trying certain notes to fit each progression with another, and Changgu wonders how Yanan was capable of creating those complex symphonies from bits and pieces like these. Changgu also revisits the passing thought he had, the curiosity about how he could share his own art with Yanan, how he could somehow get Yanan to _feel_ something from an art that appealed to a sense he didn’t have.

Changgu snapped back into reality and stared down at the sketch he did, mostly from just muscle memory and quick glances around the room. It was a pencil drawing of the typewriter, lonely under its prison-like window, on the opposite of where Yanan was feeling around the music under his hands. Changgu didn’t like it. And he didn’t like the question that remained unanswered in his mind either, so he stood up and walked, deciding to try his hand at something else.

Changgu slid on the seat beside Yanan like he belonged there. Yanan scooted over naturally, like he agreed.

“Changgu?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Just making sure.”

“I’m here.”

“Okay.”

Yanan felt over the keys again, repositioning his hands now that his placement had shifted. Changgu watched intently, content to stay in silence一it was somehow more than comfortable, between just them. Yanan initiated conversation, as he started to play softly once more.

“What have you painted?”  
  
“Nothing. Just a drawing of the typewriter. It’s… not going very well.”

“Uninspired?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“Wish I could help.”

“Maybe,” Changgu said, bringing his right hand up to the piano keys on his side, “Could I play something with you?”

“You play piano?”

“No. You could teach me. Something simple.”

“Okay.”

Yanan turned his head back and forth from Changgu’s direction to the piano’s, gears turning in his mind before reaching out, and stopping midway.

“Um, can I一 is it okay if I touch your hand?”

Changgu blushed at the question, sensing the timidity in the other man’s tone. 

“Go ahead.”

Yanan felt around and Changgu met him halfway, his own calloused right hand in Yanan’s calloused left.

“Uh,” Yanan said, after brushing his fingertips over Changgu’s fingers, palm, wrist, “the other hand, please.”

Changgu let go of Yanan’s hand, despite the obvious pull. He brought his left hand over the keys instead, and Yanan reached over, feeling it like he did the other, seemingly satisfied when he spoke up.

“Okay, here, here, and here.” Yanan positioned three of Changgu’s fingers on the piano, gentle and careful. “Press from left to right. Ring finger, index, and then thumb. Can you do that?”

Something bubbled warm in Changgu’s chest. Yanan’s tone was kind, not mocking. The musician smiled when three resounding notes reverberated into the air from Changgu’s fingers, the painter building a steady rhythm in just a few seconds.

They didn’t speak after that, the keys doing the talking for them. Yanan rested his left hand on his thigh, while his right worked magic on the instrument. He played a bright melody, matching Changgu’s pace on the accompaniment and the room suddenly felt lighter, fresher, like the daylight burst through the view of gray wall from the small window. 

Changgu was getting used to the movement of his fingers. It was simple but precious in its own right, letting the music settle into the air in calm waves. Something new washed over Changgu一almost painful but also so, so sweet一when Yanan brought his left hand back up to move Changgu’s, all while continuing the melody with his right.

Changgu continued the same pattern of movement, the piece now sounding more haunting and melancholy than the last. Changgu tells himself he doesn’t hear the jolt of the key he pressed when Yanan’s unused hand brushed against his own under the piano, and Yanan didn’t bother to move away.

There was a sorrowful tone to the music, and Changgu couldn’t stop looking at Yanan. The pianist’s stare was blank and empty but he was just so _present_ 一he was _here_ , maybe even more than _here_. Changgu almost felt more connected to him through the piano they were playing than the hands of their skin that brushed underneath it. Yanan was beautiful. But if Changgu had said it then, it would have meant nothing. And Changgu needed it to mean _something_.

“Yanan, what do you think I look like?”

Changgu asked it desperately, almost, still playing the three notes with his left hand.

“I can confidently say that I do not know.”

Yanan said it with a bit of a laugh, despite his continued playing of the somber tone.

“Maybe you don’t have to see something to tell me how it looks,” Changgu supplied, struggling to put coherent words together.

“...I don’t understand.”

Changgu shut his eyes, still playing the notes, thinking of what he wanted Yanan to do.

“Art, music, writing一when we first met, you told me it was _poison_. There’s a reason, right? A reason why you call it poison?”

“I’m not following.”

“Um, okay,” Changgu said, letting his mind work a bit before deciding what to say next. “Let me try, first, then.”

“Okay,” Yanan said, voice patient and understanding as ever.

“You look like一the warm air when I walked home, on that evening that we met. You look like your music,” Changgu tightened his loose hold on Yanan’s fingers under the piano, “because it’s perfect and complex but not cold or manufactured. You look like acrylic when it dries down, because somehow it’s fluid and flowing but it doesn’t budge. It’s strong and hard to break. Though I don’t know why anyone would want to even try.”

Changgu gulped like he had said too much. He realized when he stopped talking that he had slowed down on the piano, causing Yanan to do the same. The melody sounded even more haunting that way, and Changgu couldn’t decipher the expression of Yanan’s face, but felt an odd calm wash over him at Yanan’s next words.

“I think you look like all of the books in this room,” Yanan began, tentatively. “I’ll never see what’s in them, but when I walk around before I play, feel them on the shelves一they’re there. They watch. They listen. It’s like they know me. And then I don’t feel so alone.”

“There was a sound you were making earlier, when you were drawing. Pencil on paper一I think maybe you look like _that_ . Like the sound of something being made. You might not like what you drew, and I can’t even see it. But you, drawing一it sounded nice,” Yanan said, progressively slowing down his playing. “You asked me this before and maybe… maybe _that_ ’s how you share your own art, with me.”

Both of them had stopped playing at this point, just letting the words hang in the air before Changgu squeezed Yanan’s hand that he still held, looking at him like they hadn’t only met once before.

“Can I paint you, Yanan?”

Yanan wasn’t put off by Changgu’s lack of acknowledgement of everything he had just said. He could feel it in Changgu’s palm on his, and he knew what they both felt, what went beyond any other sense they had.

“Will you paint _me_ , or paint what I _look like_?”

“They’re one and the same,” Changgu whispered, loud enough for only Yanan to hear, even though they were alone. “Just keep playing. I want to hear more.”

“Okay.”

Yanan did just that while Changgu got to work, taking glances at his subject, his wonderful pianist, layering stroke after stroke of acrylic一white, orange, pink and nearly every other color he had. He dolloped on as much as he could, outlining Yanan’s figure in strokes so bold they would definitely create texture, both for Yanan’s sake and his, so they both could feel, they could hear, they would take the portrait in however they could and they would _know_. Changgu just painted him as best he could on a small canvas, unconsciously memorizing the sullen tune Yanan played now with both of his hands. It sounded better than when Changgu was playing it with him, but Changgu enjoyed their version, too. It was _theirs_. And the picture he was creating now一Changgu wanted it to be theirs, too.

When Changgu finished the painting, he set it atop the piano, and Yanan looked at him a bit excitedly. He stopped his playing in that same, seamless way, before turning his head to the direction of the sound and smiling brightly.

“Done already?”

“Yes,” Changgu stated, taking in the messy lines of acrylic on his own work. “I have to get going, actually, but… keep the painting, wait for it to dry, and then feel it. I told you I’d give you an exception to that no-touch rule, right?”

Yanan laughed at that, reaching his left hand out, feeling around. “How long before it dries?”

“A few days before it dries _completely,_ a few hours for just the surface. The paint’s pretty thick.” Changgu reached out to hold Yanan’s hand instead of handing anything to him, to which the pianist flushed a light pink. “Don’t touch it yet. You’ll get it all over yourself and the keys.” 

“Now _that’s_ an art piece.”

Changgu laughed as he held Yanan’s hand tighter, not letting go as he walked around the piano to get closer. 

“I’ll come find you again sometime, okay?”

“Okay, Changgu. Thank you.”

Changgu didn’t need to know what the _thank you_ was for. He heard everything that Yanan had said that morning, remembered it, memorized it, perhaps just as much as the soft, sullen piano that echoed in his mind. It sounded like a funeral march. It felt like tightness in his chest, burning on his palms. But it looked like Yanan, every single part of him, and Changgu kept it as close to every single part of himself that he could.

“Thank _you_ , Yanan.” Changgu looked at him freely, gazing starry-eyed enough for the both of them. “Thank you.”

***

That same night, Changgu hummed that wistful melody to himself, clawing at his heart until he did _something_ , but he didn’t know _what_.

When he walked into his studio, late into the night when everyone in the house was asleep, he eyed the red canvases on the floor: frustrating reminders of long nights when all he could dream of was ache一neither the sight nor the sound of it, just the feeling. They lay splayed on the floor and unfinished, waiting for a worthy centerpiece, and tonight, Changgu finally obliged.

He picked up the biggest canvas, covered in blots and strokes of burgundy and blood red, and he hummed the same tune from Yanan’s piano as he painted and painted and painted, well into the break of daylight, carrying out whatever rush or feeling came to his hands.

***

The pianist and the painter saw each other several times after the second, situated in the same library room, carrying out the same routine. It had only been over three months since they started meeting like this, and Changgu wasn’t quite yet confident enough to ask Yanan to go with him somewhere new. Changgu knew that they would still have a world of their own no matter where they went, no matter the absence of the art books and grand piano, but something about being out in the open frightened him. Something about the thought of standing beside Yanan where other people could see suddenly made Changgu feel small, like he didn’t have nearly as much to give as Yanan needed, or deserved.

That didn’t stop him from coming by, though. Changgu had come to learn over the past months that Yanan was more than capable of handling himself, that he wasn’t from as wealthy a family as Changgu was but he turned it around when he started playing concerts with the local orchestra. They respected Yanan a decent amount because he was good, he played symphonies seamlessly despite his lack of vision, but that was about it. People scarcely spoke to him, which he didn’t mind after getting used to it. What mattered to him was that he afforded himself and his parents a better house, eventually. Not so much a better life一not yet一but it was getting there steadily.

Yanan had also come to learn some things about Changgu, the exhibits he showcased at and the stories of the most cutthroat auction biddings he had been to. Yanan learned that if a painting was good enough, it could sell for the same amount of money that he earned from playing piano in a year. _I wish I could understand what all the fuss was about,_ he told Changgu, _because paintings should be beautiful, then, if they’re worth that much. They must be._

Changgu learned, when he asked Yanan about the painting he did on the day they played music together, that there _was_ something to the textured acrylic that struck a chord in Yanan despite the slight triviality of it all. Yanan said that he had never touched a painting before ( _‘Why not?’ ‘I just haven’t. Or maybe I have, but didn’t know.’),_ and that Changgu’s painting of him felt indescribable under his fingers when the paint dried. Yanan said that when the portrait of him dried down, he held it in his hands and guessed that the figure in the middle was the piano (because the strokes were smooth), that the space on the left was covered in the bookshelves (because the strokes were rough), and that on the far right of the canvas was himself. ( _“Because something about the way you paint me makes me feel like I’m the focal point. Not the piano or the books, no matter how much more space they take up.”)_

And he was right, about everything. Everything about them felt even more connected after that, like they spoke in a way no one had ever learned to before, would _never_ be able to. There was a natural trust between them, adjusting to each other like it was nothing at all. There was so much more to learn, and so much to give, and Changgu wonders how much longer he could last before he gave it all.

***

“Do you ever have nightmares, Yanan?”

They sat beside each other again today, familiar with each other’s presence in front of the piano, Changgu’s painting supplies forgotten on the wooden table in the corner.

“Sometimes. Why do you ask?”

Changgu pondered it for a bit. He himself didn’t understand why Yanan’s music left him unexplainably hollow on that one night after they had played it together, didn’t know what about it led him to spend that night and the next several months creating a foreground on the red canvases he had left lying on the floor. Every stroke he made left him breathless, burdened him with worry and made him feel as though he was going insane. Changgu hadn’t told Yanan about the painting, because something about it felt wrong, like he had to protect Yanan from it, as if something he couldn’t see could still hurt him in all the wrong ways.

So Changgu didn’t tell Yanan about the painting. At least, not until today.

“I painted something from my nightmares. And the whole time, that song you played for me was echoing in my head. And I don’t know what to make of that.”

“Oh,” Yanan said, brows furrowing. “That’s good, right? It means it inspired you.”

“Maybe. But it scares me, more than anything.”

Yanan shyly felt around for Changgu’s hand, holding just tight enough to fit perfectly when it was offered to him.

“What did you paint, Changgu?”

“It was two people,” Changgu began, hands starting to tremble as he described the chilling scene. “They were laying on the ground, facing each other. Everything was bloody一their hands, clothes, the ground. It was all red. But they were touching hands一almost enough to be _holding,_ but not quite. _Not quite enough_.”

Yanan squeezed Changgu’s hand, only nodding as he looked forward at the piano, taking it all in.

“If this is the stuff you see in your nightmares, I might need to reevaluate mine.”

Yanan smiled and Changgu let out a huff, still a little uneasy just from recalling the painting. Yanan took the opportunity to speak again, sharing something of his own.

“I see things, sometimes, in my dreams. I don’t know how, but I do.” Yanan heard Changgu gasp, blushing because he had learned that Changgu did it on purpose, to let him know he was listening. Yanan continued on. “Actually, it’s only ever the same, one image. I described it to my mother once, and she said she thinks I might be seeing flowers. It scares me because when I wake up they’re gone, and it always leaves me feeling… I don’t know. Hollow. But every single time, I hope I’ll see them again. No matter how many times I have to wake up and realize they’ve disappeared.”

Changgu felt something prickle at his eyes, recalling a story his own mother would tell him about when he was a child, about the flowers he would never stop drawing.

“What color were the flowers?”

“I don’t know what color is, Changgu.”

“Tell me what it _looks_ like. Like what you did before, about what _I_ looked like. Do you remember?”

“Of course,” Yanan said, immediately picking up on the shakiness in Changgu’s voice, the way he tightened his hold on him like Yanan would slip away. 

“It looks like… maybe, the opposite of nothingness, if that makes sense. Like it would be the first color I’d see, if I suddenly _could_.”

That could have meant anything, really, but Changgu let it resonate anyway. 

“It’s white, I think.” Changgu nodded, for his own sake, like he was unsure but allowing himself to continue anyway. “You know, it’s funny, my mother used to tell me I would paint white flowers all the time as a child. Hours on end, white flowers and nothing else.”

There was a beat of silence after that, Yanan not quite knowing what to say, and Changgu getting closer and closer to a breaking point.

“Don’t cry.”

Yanan was still facing the piano when he said it, and Changgu whipped his head towards him, surprised that Yanan could even tell. 

“How did you一”

“Your breathing is uneven, and your hand is shaking,” Yanan said, and true enough, the pianist’s thumb was moving in circular motions on the back of Changgu’s palm without him even realizing. “I don’t know why you’re crying, but I’m here, if you’re scared. Whatever it is, I’m here.”

Yanan brought his free hand up, turning his body towards Changgu and easily finding his cheek, swiping the tear away with his thumb and smiling as he did. Changgu could only lean into it, not caring much about why Yanan’s thumb was lingering on a weird spot under his eye.

“Don’t take my word for it, but I think you might have acrylic on your face, Changgu.”

Changgu’s eyes widened and he brought his hand up instinctively to where Yanan’s was on his cheek, feeling the speck of dried paint there and immediately giggling at himself, a bright contrast from the tears that fell from his eyes earlier.

“I do,” he said, feeling his face get hotter with every second, because Yanan hadn’t moved even an inch from where he was cupping the side of his cheek. “How embarrassing.”

Yanan smiled, bright and real and mesmerizing, the kind of smile that made crescents out of his eyes. There was nothing else for Changgu to do except smile back, the kind of smile that he hoped Yanan could also hear in their proximity, feel on his cheek, a smile that radiated with the pride Changgu felt from simply being known by Yanan, and knowing _him_ , too.

“I wish I could see you right now.”

Changgu moved closer to Yanan, more sure than he had ever been.

“You can.”

Changgu leaned up into Yanan slowly, hand making its way into Yanan’s hair before they moved. Changgu tilted his head and they fit together wonderfully, and Changgu knew it didn’t have to be perfect to feel _right_. Changgu accidentally pressed the piano keys a few times. Yanan held him tight, a little bit timid at the new feeling, but Changgu didn’t mind at all. When Changgu pulled away he was breathless and warm and dazed, and Yanan was the one who leaned back in for more.

When they both had their fill, neither of them dared to let go. Yanan had moved his hands around a lot, trying to feel as much of Changgu as he could while he kissed him and afterwards. Changgu looked right into his face, close enough so Yanan could feel that he was there. He was also sure Yanan could hear the sound of his heartbeat, making itself known as it rang in his ears and in the air around them.

“You know what _love_ looks like, Yanan?”

It was enough for Changgu that Yanan mouthed the words, ‘ _I do now,’_ even though no sound came out.

They both smiled again, against each other’s lips, promising this time to learn, to trust, and to love.

***

“You never showed me that nightmare painting of yours.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I sold it.”

“Why?”

“Because I hated it, Yanan.”

“Did it fetch a high price, at least?”

“Highest I’ve ever gotten. Local museum was the highest bidder.”

“ _Wow_.” Yanan let his jaw drop at that, asking more. “Did they title it for you?”

“I titled it, actually.”

“I thought you hated it.”

“Well, it’s still _mine_.”

Yanan smiled at his lover, mapping out Changgu’s hands and arms like he always liked to do, as if trying to memorize every dip and curve of the skin like he had done before with the ivory of piano keys.

“What did you title it, then?”

“ _Innocence_.” 

“Why _innocence?_ ” Yanan asked, as Changgu leaned into the gentle touch of Yanan’s hands on his warm skin.

“Because, Yananie, I don’t know who those people were, or why I painted them一but they were dying in a pool of their own blood. And maybe they were victims, or maybe they deserved it. But that moment before you die, I think it shows what you really want.” Changgu paused, closing his eyes and simply feeling the weight of Yanan’s touch. “And those two used their dying movements to do a useless, _innocent_ thing. They chose each other.”

Changgu didn’t open his eyes, letting Yanan calm him just by his presence. He wasn’t surprised when he felt a pair of lips on his own, warm and welcoming. Yanan’s hand made its way into his hair, holding him only timidly like always, waiting for Changgu to let him, for Changgu to give him all he had. And Changgu did; he always did.

“I’d do the stupid, innocent thing, too,” Yanan said, only a whisper.

“I love you,” Changgu replied, and he meant it.

He did. He always did.

***

Two years passed and Changgu and Yanan remained lovers, building trust and sharing paintings and music in their own little language. A year into their relationship, they bought their own little house, nothing like the mansion Changgu had lived in with his parents.

_“This is home, now.”_

_“It is.”_

_“What does it look like?”_

_“Home?” Changgu leaned into Yanan’s chest. “It looks like you.”_

There was no question that it came with its challenges; there were days and evenings and even midnights when communicating wasn’t as easy as it always had been with them, when Changgu let himself be blatantly insensitive because he was angry or frustrated or for whatever stupid reason, and sometimes it was too much to handle for either or them. But Changgu hated seeing Yanan cry, and always held him no matter what, because so much of them was built on trust and sacrifice and understanding and Changgu would never do anything to lead Yanan astray. He was everything that Changgu loved, and more.

People did their talking as well, speculations and whatnot. Changgu and Yanan were well-respected enough in their work for it not to matter much, but people talked nonetheless. Changgu hated the stares they got in the street when they would go for walks, and he wondered if Yanan felt them too, somehow. He hated that his own parents didn’t mind much that Yanan was another man, but more so about the fact that he was blind. It took everything in him not to lash out at every single remark, every weird look. Yanan told him it didn’t matter. Changgu wished there was more he could do.

Yanan was quite timid and unsure with some things about their relationship; Changgu always eased him into it, taking note of what made Yanan feel more comfortable, letting Yanan know he trusted him. They only grew closer, loved deeper, and it was easy because Changgu knew that Yanan deserved everything. And Yanan had come to know that when it came to Changgu, he had all of him一every single part of him, in every way, shape or form.

_“Changgu, tell me what you’re doing.”_

_Tonight was the first night that they had taken physical intimacy this far, and they went at their own pace, memorizing every little detail they could._

_“I’m touching you… with my... hands.” Changgu said it tentatively, knowing Yanan appreciated speaking whenever they did things like this, hearing words for what he couldn’t see. “Do you want me to stop?”_

_“No,” Yanan said, his breath hitching. “Keep going.”_

_“Beautiful.” Changgu continued his ministrations, kissing Yanan hungrily, speaking between breaths. “You’re beautiful.”_

_Changgu was determined to please his lover. Yanan deserved that pleasure, and the safety that came with every time he put his whole self in Changgu’s hands. Changgu wanted Yanan to feel as good as he himself did when they kissed or touched or did anything more, and Yanan knew that Changgu would never do anything to hurt him, that he wouldn’t go further than what Yanan was ready for, that he'd stay by his side when he needed to face his fears._

_Changgu kissed everywhere, giving special attention to the marks that littered Yanan’s skin almost all over, like they were mapped out just for him. He enjoyed the sounds that slipped out of his lover’s mouth, letting him know everything he was feeling. Changgu kissed Yanan behind the ear, on the cheek, down to his collarbone, chest, stomach._

_Yanan opened his mouth to speak when he felt Changgu’s lips on his inner thigh, soft and teasing, and a little bit much to take in all at once._

_“Hey, could you come here first?”_

_Changgu obliged, worried that Yanan didn’t like something, or worse._

_“What’s wrong?”_

_“Nothing, just…” Yanan trailed off, just focusing first on touching Changgu all over, trying to sense the position. Changgu was straddling him, grounding him a little bit when he placed his hands on his shoulders._

_“It’s okay,” he kissed Yanan on the forehead. “I’m here.”_

_“Good,” Yanan breathed, continuing shyly. “I’m just worried about doing… things where you… can’t… talk to me.”_

_“Mhm?”_

_“I don’t want to hurt you, Changgu. What if you’re hurt and can’t tell me and I can’t see?”_

_Changgu melted at the consideration, remembering why it was so easy to trust each other in the first place. “Okay, let’s do something like this.”_

_Changgu trailed his hand down to Yanan’s wrist. Yanan mirrored the motion, finding Changgu’s hand easily, slender fingers surrounding him warmly._

_“Keep talking to me like always, okay? And if I tap thrice,” Changgu carried it out, tapping once, twice, thrice. “It means yes, I want to keep going.”_

_Yanan nodded, tapping with his own finger as well, before Changgu continued._

_“If I pinch, I’m saying no, or I want to stop. Got it?”_

_Yanan smiled at the feather-light pinch on his wrist, choosing not to copy that action, this time, just nodding in affirmation._

_“If I tap repeatedly, like this,” Changgu did it again, tapping repeatedly on Yanan’s skin, “then I want to slow down.”_

_Yanan nodded again, a bit more composed._

_“Try it out, Yananie.”_

_“Okay,” Yanan shut his eyes, grabbing hold of both Changgu’s hands. “Do you want to try what you were doing again?”_

_Changgu didn’t speak, tapping three times with one hand for ‘yes,’ and he smiled into the kiss when Yanan leaned forward into him. Changgu kissed him more and more, keeping a steady pace, before they picked up right where they left off._

The night was interesting, to say the least, and Changgu wouldn’t have traded it for anything. Finding out everything that Yanan liked and giving it to him was almost pure heaven, as far as he was concerned, and Yanan made him feel just as good. 

There wasn’t anything Changgu wanted more than to just live in those moments, quiet little things that reminded them just how much they cared for each other. Yanan looked peaceful now where he slept on Changgu’s right side, and Changgu wondered if anything went on in his dreams. If they were just as peaceful as how the 2 AM moonlight made him look. Something pulled at his heart again as he took in the sight of Yanan, knowing how many times Yanan told him he wished he could do the same. It settled heavy in Changgu’s chest, tears welling up in his eyes. He tried to muffle them with the blankets, although that never really seemed to work with Yanan, no matter how quiet he was being.

Soon enough the other man started to stir and he opened his eyes, immediately reaching out for Changgu and smiling softly when he got a response. Yanan was still sleepy, but all of his words sounded just as melodic to Changgu as the notes on his piano, whether he was dazed or energetic or quiet. It always felt like home.

“Why are you still awake?” 

Changgu held on tighter to his hand, looking down into Yanan’s gray pupils. “I’m just looking at you.”

“Why?”

“I’m afraid you’ll disappear.”

“Welcome to my world.”

Yanan said it with a soft smile, and Changgu let the tears fall from his eyes at the sight. He made no sound nor mention of it, but Yanan was bringing a hand up to his face in a second, swiping the tears away.

“How do you always know when I’m crying?”

“I just know you.”

“I love you, Yanan.”

“I know that too.”

They breathed calmly in silence, Changgu taking in the moment before it could slip through his hands.

It took a few seconds before Changgu spoke again. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“I can always hear your heartbeat, you know?” Yanan started, turning towards his lover’s voice like it was second nature. “It’s how I know where you are. And every single time you told me you wouldn’t leave my side, you never did.”

It made Changgu’s face beam, hearing those words. He plastered on his realest, wobbliest smile, because despite how much they relied on words to talk, Changgu cherished the rare moments that Yanan wore his heart on his sleeve and told him things exactly the way they were. Sometimes, Changgu _did_ wish that Yanan could look at him, see exactly how happy he made him, but moments like this made Changgu realize that perhaps Yanan already knew.

Changgu didn’t say anything more, just kissed Yanan on his favorite spot, a chaste touch of his lips underneath Yanan’s right eye. The pianist fluttered his eyes shut at that, giggling softly.

“Go back to sleep, my love. I’m not going anywhere.”

And they didn’t一not in this life, at least. They grew old and grew in love, long into a quiet life. It was a shame, every smile and painting and movement of Changgu’s that Yanan could never see, but they made it worth their while as long as they were by each other’s sides. They touched and heard and listened all the while, to soft piano and pencil on paper and vivid descriptions of what every sky looked like above them. 

Above all, their favorite sound was that of each other’s heartbeats一they kept them close, kept them safe, faithful until they flickered out on a warm December evening, one after the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter: [dancing with our hands tied by taylor swift](https://open.spotify.com/track/7I7JbDv63ZJJsSi24DyJrz?si=gVHz-sOyTGe_DPYrEWbXWg)
> 
> aaaaand that's it ^_^ i really enjoyed focusing on their lives this time, instead of their deaths. i hope this was a nice break from all the pain T-T i appreciate kudos and comments very much if you liked this or again scream at me on [twt](https://twitter.com/violetholdsme?s=20) or cc


	5. fragility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **fragility** _/frəˈjilədē/_  
>  : (noun.) the quality of being delicate or vulnerable.
> 
> Some things become easier without the burden of being known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> true to the fashion of this chapter, i'll be giving the songs at the beginning! i wish you would by taylor swift \+ shouldn't have said it by julia michaels
> 
> **cw for this chapter: alcohol, mentions of blood, accidents**

The world simply wasn’t fair. It never was. Not in this life一and Yang Hongseok doesn’t imagine that it would be, in any other. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said.

Hongseok never expected that he would be here, saying those words to the man beside him, trying to keep a straight face while looking down at an open casket. A body drained of life, a face without a soul. The universe had its own, demented ways of surprising him.

“Still. It should have been me.”

Hongseok sighed. He never expected how things would turn out. Everything had only latched itself into place in a split-second, a blip too fast for anyone to stop or expect or prepare for it, and it left a pang in his chest because he thought he _knew._ Hongseok thought he _knew_ that it would end, _how_ it would end, he had prepared himself for what he had to do after it _did_ end. 

But he _didn’t_ know. And neither did the man standing beside him.

_Yes. Maybe it should have been you._

Some things become easier without the burden of being known.

***

_[3 MONTHS EARLIER]_

Yeo Changgu knew that there was something different about this life. And because Changgu knew it, Hongseok also knew it by extension.

Changgu watched his friend as he wiped down coffee cups at the sink, drying them off thoroughly unlike Changgu’s infamous ‘just-shaking-off-the-water’ method that _leaves droplet marks, asshole, do it properly!_ as Hongseok had so eloquently put it before. It was a slow day at the café, and the two had plenty of time to share stories behind the counter, lest the ambient music from the jukebox put them to sleep. 

Changgu wouldn’t call Hongseok his _best friend_ , but _coworker_ wasn’t so much the case either. Possibly, he’d settle for _best friend_ _at work_ , tacky as it sounded, but it was pretty much what they were. They both worked at the small-town café for lack of something better to do, they shared the same, (boring,) shift schedules that let them get away with just chatting most of the time, and they didn’t really mind each other’s company. It was also more fun getting scolded together rather than alone whenever they would make and drink coffee for themselves behind the bar, in full view of all the establishment’s patrons.

Changgu knew that he and Hongseok probably knew _way_ too much about each other’s private lives at this point, and he doesn’t really know at which point he should’ve started regretting it. But they were here now, and both shamelessly taking advantage of the fact that they didn’t abhor listening to each other, so Changgu chimed in cheerily as he walked up to the other barista, startling him out of his dishwashing-induced trance.

“Ask me how Yananie and I are doing.”

“ _Are you kidd_ 一” Hongseok stopped himself from almost dropping the mug in his hand, startled, before rolling his eyes at his friend. “Fine, how are you and _Yananie~_ doing?”

Changgu beamed. “Splendid. Wonderful. Almost two years together and I am still so in love,” Changgu laughed dreamily, unfazed by the disgusted expression on Hongseok’s face. “And you? How are you and Jinho-hyung?”

“Good,” Hongseok nodded, still slightly aghast from Changgu’s open exhibition of affection for his boyfriend who wasn’t even present.

“Good? That’s it?”

“What, am I supposed to come up with some other synonyms for _splendid, fantastic_ 一”

“Hey!” Changgu pouted. “But give me details, come on, I haven’t seen you two together in, like, forever.”

“Nosy,” Hongseok scrunched his nose at the word. “But if you must know, yes, it’s going wonderful. Almost four years and we’re finally moving in together.”

“Hyung!” Changgu exclaimed, lowering his voice into a scream-whisper when the couple at one of the tables gave him a glare and he remembered where they were. “Are you kidding me? Why are you acting like this isn’t a big deal?”

“You’re one to talk, you moved in with Yanan after dating for, like, 6 weeks.”

“It was 7 months, asshole!” Changgu slapped the other man on the arm. “And that’s because I _know_ that he’s the one. I’m sure.”

“Changgu…”

Hongseok gave him the same, concerned look as he always did whenever Changgu mentioned anything of that sort. It was true; Changgu knew that there _was_ something different about this life一he always had. And that was because some part of him understood, in the very back of his mind, that this couldn’t possibly have been the _only_ life he had lived. Hongseok was kind enough to give him the benefit of the doubt, but it didn’t stop him from trying to ground Changgu back to reality every once in a while.

“Changgu-ya, I told you. That can’t be your answer to everything.”

“I know that!” Changgu furrowed his brow defensively. “I love him, we love each other, and he’s absolutely amazing. But he’s _also_ the same guy I’ve been seeing in my dreams ever since I can remember even having dreams! You can’t tell me that that doesn’t mean _anything_ , Hongseok-hyung.”

“You’re right, I can’t,” Hongseok said, giving in like he always did. “Still, be careful. Those are some tall expectations to have for someone, Changgu. It’s better if you just live in the moment.”

“Cliché,” Changgu replied. “But you don’t have to worry about us. We’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

“So, how’s the _moving in_ going?”

“Jinho wants a TV.”

“Are you getting one?”

“Am I supposed to say _no_ to him?”

“That’s cute,” Changgu teased. “I can already imagine seeing you here in the mornings, telling me about some corny sitcom the two of you watched together the night before. How romantic.”

“You _love_ the corny sitcoms when they come on here!”

“And _you_ hate them,” Changgu smiled. “But you love Jinho-hyung.”

“That, and he scares me,” Hongseok mused. “But, yeah, mostly, you know. The love thing.”

“Hmm. You don’t even need your dreams to tell you that he’s the one.”

“Shut up, Changgu.”

Changgu had the same dreamy look in his eyes, a genuine smile of fondness, but Hongseok couldn’t help but notice the hint of offness in his tone一the slight edge to the way he had said it, like it was a plea more than a declaration.

Hongseok let it slide without incident. Perhaps that was a mistake. 

But that was what he did, and he couldn’t have known.

***

A few weeks later, Changgu and Hongseok were talking behind the counter as they always did, with Changgu a little bit distracted by the figure seated at one of the tables for two. Yanan had come into the café today to work a little bit, and his boyfriend stole glances at him more times than one. A lot more times than was acceptable, Hongseok thought, but he wasn’t one to meddle in their relationship.

Yanan studied medicine, worked late nights and started getting hopped up on coffee as soon as the clock signaled it was the afternoon. He liked sitting at the café, happy just to let Changgu watch him from behind the counter while he talked with Hongseok, absolutely delighted to smile at him over the counter with every new drink he ordered. Yanan finds it a little bit stupid that they still flirted like two idiots crushing on each other, but it was Changgu, and Yanan loved everything about Changgu. Yanan loved teasing him, kissing him, putting his textbooks aside for a few seconds or minutes or hours just for him. Yanan loved sitting and working in the homey café up until Changgu’s shift was done, if only so they could walk home together whether it was in snow or summer air. When it was Yeo Changgu, Yanan just loved him. And he always, _always_ loved _loving_ him.

“Excuse me.”

Yanan snapped out of his trance, startled by the stranger that suddenly crept up in front of him.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to change the song, could you maybe move a little, please?”

Yanan did as he was asked, polite despite the _slightly_ infuriating lilt to the other man’s tone. He looked back and forth from the jukebox that he was previously sitting in front of, to the counter where he found Hongseok mindlessly talking to a slightly glaring Changgu.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Changgu only mouthed _sorry_ to Hongseok, continuing his glaring.

“That was my favorite song,” Changgu said, matter-of-factly, when the man beside Yanan dropped a coin into the jukebox and cut off the classical piano with some unfamiliar jazz music.

“Okay, you don’t have to give him a death stare for stopping your favorite song.”

Hongseok was right, but Changgu’s blood still boiled. He always played that one piece in its entirety, savoring every second of every note. And when that man at the jukebox一Hyunggu, he remembers from taking his ridiculous coffee order一walked away from Yanan and back to his broad-shouldered companion at the other end of the room, Changgu only glared more intensely. When Hyunggu shot Yanan an all-too-innocent look before settling back into his companion’s side, it felt like Hyunggu might as well have been shooting him in the head. Changgu didn’t know why.

“Did you know that historians had to piece that composition together from messy, handwritten sheet music hidden inside the frame of some famous painting?” Changgu blurted out, snapping himself out of his trance.

“Uh,” Hongseok replied, a little frightened at his friend’s intensity. “No.”

“They say that the artist wrote down the notes for the pianist, because the pianist was a blind man.” 

“That’s just a story.”

“It’s history.”  
  
“What were their names, then?”

“No one knows一”

“Then it’s just a story.”

“And yet they didn’t need names to tell us theirs.”

Hongseok laughed lightly, catching the way Changgu directed his gaze to his lover, studying intently, oblivious once again to the world around him.

The sureness in his tone slowly faded as Changgu said his next words, staring a little wistfully at Yanan across the room. 

“It reminds me of him, that story.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Changgu sighed. “He’s not blind, but sometimes I feel like he doesn’t _see_ , you know?”

Hongseok shook his head. It was getting a little worrisome to see Changgu like this lately, and a lot more often as well. “If this is about the dreams again, you have to get that sorted out.”

Yanan looked up at them then, Changgu smiling brightly to mask the sadness in his tone. “It’s fine. We talk about it, and he knows, and he’s not freaked out or anything. I just…”

“You just…?”

“Why am _I_ the only one who has these stupid dreams? Is he一 Am I the only one that一”

Changgu was interrupted by a chime at the door, as a man walked in and made a beeline for Hyunggu and shoulder-guy and gave them both a kiss on the cheek (garnering opposite reactions from the two). Changgu saw Hongseok smiling at the three, while Changgu was sure he gave the biggest, most exaggerated eye roll he had ever given in his life.

“Come on, big baby, you act like you and Yanan don’t do that kind of gross shit.” Hongseok snorted.

“Hey! They just annoy me, okay, with their PDA and jazz music and how they always look like they’re so _sure_ of themselves, it makes me wanna throw up.”

Hongseok simply stared.

“What?”

“Did you actually just hear yourself?”

“Yes, _fuck_. Shut up. I mean, look at Yuto over there!” Changgu said defensively, gesturing wildly to said customer, sitting across from his freakishly tall date and poring over some obscure graphic novel with stars in his eyes. “ _They’re_ cute without being disgusting in public and infuriating the hell out of me一”  
  
“Jeez, okay, let’s drop it,” Hongseok said, mildly exasperated. “Whatever is going on with Yanan, just talk to him about it. You love him, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then that’s what you hold on to. Not the dreams, not some classical music shit.”

“Fine.”

Yanan looked over at the two baristas behind the counter, not missing the grave look on his boyfriend’s face as he spoke to the other man. He wasn’t close enough to them that he could hear what they were saying, but Yanan hoped it was nothing. He had his own dilemmas to deal with, too.

Yanan walked up to the counter, noting how Changgu’s expression shifted back into brightness immediately, just a little too quick to be real.

“Wanna go home, Bao?”

Changgu smiled genuinely at that one word, leaning forward over the counter to meet Yanan halfway. “Yeah. Shift’s almost over.”

Yanan moved a curl of brown hair away from Changgu’s forehead to place a split-second kiss on the exposed skin, smiling as he did. “Alright, I’ll fix up my stuff.”

Yanan could sense it somehow, the sudden shakiness that radiated off the both of them. Something about it was chilling, the way Yanan’s lips went cold the moment they left his lover’s skin, just as how the classical piano stopped midway in abrupt force without cadence instead of fading in decrescendo, the same way stubborn jazz consumed the room along with the stuffy laughs of three lovers on the other side of what now seemed to be a ballroom littered with quicksand instead of a quaint little coffee shop. Yanan remembered when Changgu would tell him about dreams, and now Yanan felt like he was living in one that had turned into a nightmare.

“Ready?”

Changgu’s hand on his shoulder tethered Yanan back to the earth, and he gave his best smile, doing what he could to keep light in his tired eyes.

“Ready.”

***

In the weeks after that, the air between them was thick with unknown fog. Yanan sensed it clearly when Changgu told him his sleep was filled more often with nightmares, rather than rose-colored film reels of the two of them together. It was quite an enigma to Yanan, when Changgu first told him about his troubles; trying to live up to an image of himself was quite a feat, but Yanan tried his very best. After all, it was Changgu. Yanan knew he loved him from the moment they met.

Still, sometimes, Yanan stops to wonder about the first day he stepped into the café, if Changgu would have even given him a second look if Yanan’s face hadn’t haunted his dreams since he was a kid.

The dreams were… unusual. They were just as unimaginable to Yanan as they were reassuring to Changgu. Yanan knew that they elevated him atop a precipice, pulled both of them together to the top of the world without them even trying. But Yanan also knew that one can only go so high, before being pushed right off the edge.

And ever since that day at the café, Yanan and Changgu seemed to be waiting for the pin to drop. It was an unspoken shared suspicion, as if the lovers all around them pulled on taut string, enough to tie them up, powerless, until it snapped and opened up the ground to swallow them whole. Yanan wished it didn’t loom over them so cruelly. Selfishly, he wished it could all just be a nightmare for him, too, instead of real life.

Because Yanan knew that when he and Changgu would finally get driven off the edge, it would be by his own doing.

“Changgu, you love me, right?”

“Of course,” Changgu replied, with worry in his eyes that Yanan had seen too much of, lately. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Anything,” Changgu reassured, moving closer to him on their apartment’s squeaky couch, taking Yanan’s hand in his own. “You can tell me anything.”

“Well,” Yanan began, hands shaking nervously in his lover’s. “You know that I’m going to start my surgical residency soon, and I’ve been sending out applications to lots of hospitals. I told you, right?”

“Yes, and I am so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Bao. Well…”

“Yes?”

Changgu looked up at him, then. Yanan didn’t even realize he was beaming, all the worry and doubt gone from his eyes.

It only made it _that_ much more difficult to break his heart.

“I got accepted into one, and一”  
  
“That’s great!”

Yanan took a leap off his pedestal as it crumbled behind him. He could only wonder if Changgu had enough will to try and build it back up, together.

“一it’s in Europe, Changgu.”

The string snapped, and there was no going back.

Changgu withdrew his hands from Yanan’s, the backs of his palms apparently not stubborn enough to try and wipe the tears that started falling down his cheeks. Yanan willed his own emotions to remain at bay, at least until Changgu was settled, until they at least had _something_ to hold onto while they floated in empty space.

“So what happens now? To us,” Changgu whispered, eyes downcast while he tried not to break.

“I was hoping you would tell me what _you_ wanted,” Yanan spoke softly, as kind as he could manage, though not devoid of sorrow.

“Well, we apparently don’t want the same things!” Changgu raised his voice the slightest bit, hurt clear in the way he clenched his fists into the hem of his sweater. “Why didn’t you even tell me?”

“I一 this was a really big opportunity, Changgu. I was一” Yanan cleared his throat, the thickness building up and making it hard to speak. “I was hoping you’d be supportive.”

“Why would I want you to _leave_?”

Yanan spoke louder. “It’s only for two years一”

“Is that supposed to make it _better_?” Changgu yelled back at him.

“This is my _life_ , and my _career_ , Changgu, and I know we can make it work if we try.”

“You’ll have to write me letters, or get some international landline or some shit, you’ll have to get on a plane一planes crash, Yanan! Did you know that?”

“This isn’t about planes crashing, Changgu, you’re just一”

“ _What_?” Changgu yelled, much louder than all the previous times. Yanan let one tear slip out onto his cheek, rolling down to soak into this shirt.

“Do you know how selfish you’re being right now?”

The smallness of Yanan’s voice reached somewhere deep into Changgu’s chest, and his next words coming out in a choked up sob, as he sat back down next to him.

“I’m sorry,” Changgu said, voice breaking on the last note. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Yanan began. “I’m sorry, too. But I have to do this, Bao. For me.”

“But what about _me_?” Changgu asked innocently, all the fear returning in his shaky tone.

“I need both,” Yanan replied, more tears falling down his face. He never wanted to hurt Changgu. Not like this. “But only if you’re willing to try.”

They sat in silence, beside each other on their sofa without touching. Changgu had moved his hand away when Yanan tried to reach for him, and the younger man looked towards the clock at his right side if only to hide the silent tears. Unsaid words hung in the air between them, burning questions and stubborn, withheld sentiments or apologies. Yanan could only wish they could patch things back up, rebuild what they had crushed with the volumes of their voices and the pressure on the fabric bunched up in their fists. That they’d work their way back up to the top slowly, whether or not their stronghold would ever be the same again. Yanan didn’t care if it was no longer perfect. It would still be theirs.

“Can you give me some time to think it over, please?”

Changgu didn’t look into his eyes, but his head found its way into the crook of his lover’s neck and shoulder, a silent plea to hold on while they still could. Yanan ran a hand through the messy curls, promising exactly that.

“Alright.”

***

That same night, Changgu dreamt, just like he always did. He dreamt, and he remembered, and he _knew_.

_Yanan stood in a field of withered flowers, lips pale while he held up a bouquet of daisies in his bony hands. The sky was pink and gold and turning orange, a stark contrast to Yanan’s pupils turning gray right in front of him. His mouth was moving but no words came out, and Changgu could only call his name, shout aimlessly like it was a lifeline. But the daisies only grew into vines, consuming Yanan from his wrists to his arms and chest until he was gone, and only white remained of the rest of the sky._

_Then Yanan was back, lively as ever but his face sunken, back propped up against a headstone surrounded in lilies. Every petal withered when Changgu touched it, flowers dying one by one as he tried to get closer, but Yanan drove a dagger through the ground and the soil fell apart, taking Changgu with it._

_Then Changgu was back at the old library, the one place he had been to a thousand times before. He almost memorized the titles on the spines of each book on the shelves, humming along to the melancholy tune that the piano played on its own. Changgu was always alone in this room. He never knew why. But whenever he reached for the piano, he felt arms wrap around him, and it was all he ever got to feel before the entire room went black, and the music went on without him._

_Changgu woke up on a busy city street, lying in red liquid that flowed like a river. It looked like blood, but smelled of acrylic paint._

_Then he stared up at the night sky, cloudy and dark until it went bright with heavenly light._

_It sounded like destruction._

_But it looked like a firework show._

Changgu jumped upright out of bed, out of breath and chilly from sweat. He could still hear explosions in the back of his mind, see the way the sky lit up orange before everything was consumed in fire. Sobs wracked his body without him even realizing, and Yanan was quick to sit up beside him, rubbing circles into his back as Changgu only cried harder into his hands.

“Yanan,” he stuttered between breaths. “ _Yanan_.”

“I’m here.”

“You一” Changgu tried to catch his breath. “Yanan.”

“It’s me, Changgu.”

“Yanan,” Changgu said again, looking the other man straight into the eyes this time. “Do you think we’re destined for tragedy?”

Yanan was puzzled. He tried to catch as much light in Changgu’s eyes as he could in the dim light of their bedroom, replying gently. “I don’t think we’re _destined_ for anything.”

Changgu kept silent, evening out his breaths. It didn’t seem to satisfy him. Yanan just continued.

“The world brought us together, maybe, but we do all the work from there,” he sighed. “I’ll stay if you stay, and we’ll both stay, because we love each other. Right?”

“I just don’t understand, Yanan,” Changgu said, burying his head in his hands, sounding defeated. “I see you in my dreams every night, I’ve been seeing you before I even met you. But we know each other. We _always_ have. But why don’t you remember? The fields, Yanan, and the graveyard and the library and the acrylic paint, why do you not remember? Why am I the _only_ _one_ that remembers?”

Yanan didn’t quite know what to say to that. It had never been an issue一at least, not that Yanan knew of. Sometimes he would wish that he _could_ remember, that he could understand everything that Changgu meant however unimaginable or unreasonable. But the selfish part of him was glad, more than anything, that he didn’t; it meant he got to love Changgu on his own terms, and it was enough for him because Changgu himself was all Yanan needed to know that he would love him until the day一or lifetime一that he died. Part of him wished that they both only knew _each other_ , here and now.

“I’m sorry, Changgu.”

“My dreams always tell me I’ve lost you in every life we’ve been together, Yananie. Please don’t tell me I found you now just to lose you again.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But you’re leaving.”

“I’ll come back to you, okay?”

“I can’t do it,” Changgu muttered. “I spent my whole life dreaming of someone I’ve never met before and hoping I’d find them again. I don’t want to hope anymore. I’m sorry.”

Changgu made a move to get out of the bed, sniffling almost every two seconds.

“Changgu, where are you going?”

When Changgu replied, he sounded more tired than anything, like the thought of Yanan, of _losing_ Yanan, was draining the life out of him. 

“I don’t know, to the couch? I just… I can’t be with you right now.”

Yanan tried to ignore the sound of his own heart breaking when he got up from the bed, much swifter than the other man, holding a hand up before Changgu’s feet could even touch the floor. His voice was soft when he spoke, so gentle and loving that it disguised the shattering of every piece of him he tried to hold together until now.

“I’ll sleep on the couch, Changgu. Stay here, alright?”

They locked eyes for a moment, Changgu looking up at Yanan hovering over him from a distance only far away enough so Changgu could reach out if he wanted to. He didn’t.

“Good night.”

Yanan left the room without another word, hoping Changgu would fall back into a slumber that was dreamless, instead of filled with him.

***

A few hours later, Yanan awoke to a bundle of warmth at his side, surprised to see Changgu getting settled to sit beside him on the sofa, blanket draped around his shoulders.

“Are you alright, Bao?” Yanan asked sleepily.

Changgu nodded. “Is it okay if we don’t talk yet?” he said quietly, like he was afraid Yanan would say no.

Yanan just draped his arm around his lover, knowing, above everything, that he loved him. Whether they were tired or hurt or angry, he still loved him. That mattered more than any pride or pain.

Changgu nuzzled into his side, sobbing quietly into Yanan’s shoulder. And he, too, knew what was true, even when it remained unsaid.

When Changgu awoke the next morning, Yanan was gone, and the warmth along with him.

***

“So, you two are just… what, now?”

Hongseok looked concerned. Changgu was starting to notice that lately, Hongseok always looked concerned, and it was probably because he himself looked like he wasn’t sleeping (which he wasn’t). Yanan left to _give him some space_ , as said on the note he left the morning after their fight, though Yanan probably needed it just as much. That was almost two weeks ago. Changgu wondered how much suffering Yanan had to have been hiding if he didn’t show up for that long.

“I don’t know, hyung,” Changgu said, dejected. “But he’s going to leave anyway, so I guess now we’ll just be… strangers.”

“You don’t see a _stranger_ in your dreams every night.”

“Thought you didn’t believe in that,” Changgu clicked his tongue. “And anyway, it’s easier if he’s a stranger. It’ll hurt less.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Changgu-ya,” Hongseok sighed, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Are you at least going to settle it before he leaves?”

“What’s there to settle?” Changgu looked down, fumbling with the pockets on his apron, laughing coldly. “I told him I didn’t want to see him, and now he doesn’t want to see me, too. He’ll get on an airplane, and then it won’t matter. None of it will matter. That’s it.”

“That is _not_ it.”

“It’s over, Hongseok-hyung,” Changgu wiped away the stubborn tear that fell from his eye. “Seems like we’ve met in so many lifetimes. Maybe this one just isn’t for us, either.”

Changgu didn’t expect Hongseok to pull him into a hug. He had never done it, and certainly not at work, and Changgu didn’t imagine that it would feel as safe and kind as it did. _Best friend_ or not, Hongseok cared. Even when he was harsh and straightforward, Changgu knew Hongseok would protect him in a heartbeat.

“Do what’s best for you, Changgu. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Changgu muttered, letting himself breathe just a little bit easier. “I’ll try.”

***

Nearly a month had passed. 

Changgu didn’t know what to do with himself. He was avoiding Yanan; that much he could admit. He made Hongseok cover for him whenever Yanan turned up at the café, went out every night in case Yanan showed back up at his door. It became a routine just as much as the nightmares had, but he drowned it in tears or alcohol or whatever the fuck, and he told himself he would stop when he knew that Yanan was gone.

But there was no way he could know, really. Yanan could have left on a plane to some European wonderland weeks ago, and Changgu wouldn’t have bothered himself to try and find out. Instead, he worked double shifts and went out and got wasted, precisely in that order, day after day after day. Sometimes the buzz made his nightmares subside. Sometimes they got worse. Changgu almost enjoyed himself, betting on that roulette wheel like it would somehow spite whatever fated him and Yanan together.

Yet it always seemed to spite him back, cruel and defiant. Three knocks on the door were all it took for Changgu to jump out of his seat on the one day that he chose to stay home, right as he was about to open another bottle and swim his way to the bottom. He could have just ignored it, the way he had practiced for weeks that seemed like forever. But something in him told him not to.

Changgu swung the door open to see Yanan, clad in a winter coat with flecks of snow still resting atop his hair.

He always looked more beautiful than anything Changgu could only cling onto in his dreams. That hadn’t changed. Changgu looked him up and down and remembered that he loved him一so much more than he had ever loved anything一and that hadn’t changed, too.

“Come in,” Changgu said, his heart surprisingly so much steadier than he thought it would be.

Yanan walked into what was once their home, looking around wistfully, almost regretful. Changgu wished he could take it all away, pull him back down onto the sofa where they last held each other despite all the hurt. It could be their home again, even if Changgu had to count down the days before it no longer could. He hoped they would have another chance. He hoped Yanan wasn’t here to let him go before he had to.

But hope wasn’t forgiving. It certainly wasn’t fair.

“My flight is today,” Yanan said, his voice sadder than it had ever been. “I came to see if you were okay.”

Changgu let his tears fall at the clear hurt in Yanan’s voice. He knew he fucked up, he knew just from the quiver of Yanan’s lips how much it pained him, the irony that the one day that Yanan caught Changgu in his escapism was also the one day he only _tried to_ as a formality rather than a need. Yanan had probably expected no response when he came up to Changgu’s doorstep. He probably wasn’t even counting on a goodbye. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I know.”  
  
“That’s it?”

“I’m sorry.”  
  
“We can still be together, Changgu. Don’t tell me you don’t even want us to try.”

“I can’t, Yanan,” Changgu looked down, suddenly regretful. Ashamed. He was breaking Yanan’s heart. And he knew he wasn’t going to stop himself. “Maybe in the next life一”

“Would you _please_ be serious for a moment? Please?”

“I _am_ being serious, Yanan! I remember so many things about you, about _us_ , from, I don’t even know where or when or how and, and _fuck_ 一I don’t know! Is it so wrong to worry that this will never mean as much to you because you could never understand?”

Something in Yanan seemed to snap, and Changgu saw it in the flicker in his eyes. Tears pooled in Yanan’s eyes, Changgu could see them accentuating the mole on his waterline that Changgu loved to leave chaste kisses on. Now it just looked like pain. Yanan looked so tired. Changgu wondered if he already looked like that the last time they had seen each other.

“This doesn’t mean as much to me? You think this _doesn’t mean as much to me_? What, because I don’t have nightmares of your face? I would take them all from you if I could, Changgu! I wish I could一”

“You wish you could _what_? Fix me like I’m some broken machine? So I would do what you want? As if I could suddenly stay without being afraid of losing you? Is that it, Yanan?”

“Changgu, I’m not going to die in a flower field or plunge you into a dark abyss or whatever the hell you say happened in a past life, so could you please, for one second, stop being so goddamn in love with the _idea_ of me一”

“Get out.”

Tears were streaming down Changgu’s face as he pushed Yanan towards the door. The other man didn’t resist, though he was still consumed in his anger.

Yanan was standing in the doorway, staring at a Changgu that had gone silent, simply looking at him, pleading for him to go before they both caused any more damage.

“Just face it,” Yanan said, looking down at the ground. “You don’t love me, Changgu.”

Changgu let his features contort as the tears fell without stopping, no longer trying to hide how his heart shattered at those words.

“I would’ve loved you whether or not I’d ever met you in my dreams,Yanan,” Changgu whispered, before slamming the door shut in Yanan’s face.

Yanan never got to tell him that all he could ever see in his own dreams was black.

***

_The sky went up in smoke._

Changgu awoke to the sound of his telephone, the ringing irritating as his head pounded. He could smell the alcohol on his own breath, a little bit ashamed but no longer surprised. 

He stumbled over his furniture, out into his kitchen into his living room, wondering who the hell was calling him at Jesus fucking Christ o’clock in the morning. He picked up the phone, trying his best not to slur his words.

“Hello?”

“Changgu?”

Hongseok’s voice was on the other end of the line, sounding frantic. Changgu could barely register some digital voice and static, but he paid it no mind.

“Do you know what fucking time it is?”

“Changgu. Jinho and I are watching the news.”

“Wh一I don’t care.”

“There was a plane crash.”

Changgu felt his stomach drop.

The world suddenly felt like it was spinning as the silence dragged on, and Changgu recalls every nightmare he had for the past goddamn weeks, ending the same way over and over and over again.

Light. Destruction. Fireworks. 

An all-too-familiar figure, falling from the sky, almost gracefully like the winds were mocking him.

“Why are you telling me there was a plane crash?” Changgu was about to be sick.

“There were lots of survivors, Changgu, but Yanan was on that flight, he told me the flight details when一”

“‘M gonna find him,” Changgu slurred, already eyeing the door.

“Wh一 are you drunk? Changgu, don’t fucking go anywhere, I can drive us both to the hospital一Changgu? Hello?”

Hongseok bolted out the door when the line went dead, driving to the hospital nearest the crash site. He hoped from whatever force in the universe that he’d find both of his friends safe, but he prepared for the worst. Changgu would be broken if Yanan was gone. But it would just have to be another thing to get through, somehow; maybe not in this lifetime, as Changgu always said. Hongseok told himself he would be prepared for the worst.

When he walked through the hospital doors, he knew he had been wrong.

***

_[PRESENT DAY]_

_Yes. Maybe it should have been you._

Hongseok wanted so bad to be selfish, to let those words slip out of his mouth with anger and no remorse. But he didn’t think it would ever feel right, no matter how hard he tried.

“It shouldn’t have been either of you.”

Hongseok turned to look at the man beside him. Yanan looked as stoic as ever, if not for the bandages on his face and the forlorn look in his eyes that made him look somehow even more lifeless than the body they were both looking over. 

“None of this would have happened if I had just stayed like he wanted me to. It could have been so simple. But it wasn’t. And now he’s gone.”

 _Simple._ Yes, it could have been. Hongseok mulls over the thought and laughs coldly at the irony of it, because it could have been passed off as the grand scheme of fate or the plan of the universe or some shit, but it wasn’t. The way Changgu was taken was so stupid and _simple_. So trivial it almost seemed purposeless. And it hurts every time Hongseok recalls that night at the hospital as he sat by Yanan’s bed一saying and doing the last things that he thought he would ever have to say and do.

_“What happened?”_

_Hongseok watched as Yanan adjusted to the brightness of the hospital walls, eyes fluttering open and shut._

_“Your plane crashed. You had a concussion, but only mild injuries other than that.”_

_Yanan watched him, and Hongseok knew the man in the bed could see the emptiness in his eyes. Hongseok didn’t want to be here. But somehow, he felt like it was the least he could do._

_“Why are you here?” Yanan asked, tentative._

_“Because,” Hongseok sighed. There was no way he was going to be able to say it. “Because Changgu is… here.”_

_Yanan widened his eyes. “He’s here?”_

_“Why wouldn’t he be?”_

_“We had a big fight before I left.”_

_“Hmm.” Hongseok didn’t know if hearing that made him want to punch Yanan, or just cry his fucking eyes out._

_“Where is he?” Yanan asked._

_“He’s not here anymore.” Hongseok only sighed, burying the heels of his palms into his eyes._

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I mean,” Hongseok said flatly, “I shouldn’t have called him up because he was drunk, and probably angry, and he walked into traffic and he’s_ not here anymore. _”_

_It took a beat of silence before Yanan tried to piece together what it meant, and Hongseok could’ve sworn he saw the light leave Yanan’s eyes for good._

_“No,” was all he said. It was all he could say. “No, no, no, no一”_

“Do you know what the last thing I said to him was?” Yanan said, clearing his throat.

Hongseok turned his head towards the other man, startled out of his reverie. “What was it?”

“ _You don’t love me, Changgu._ ” Yanan laughed dryly. Hongseok only stared at him before speaking up.

“That’s not true.”

“I know,” Yanan said, tears making their way down to soak into his black suit jacket. “He never told me he didn’t love me. Those words never left his mouth. The one time I had to hear it, it was from myself, and it was a fucking lie. And he died thinking I believed it.”

They stood together in silence after that, simply running around in their own heads to find some last words they never got to say. They looked down at Changgu’s body, the shell of what was once a friend, a loved one. They hoped that somewhere, if souls were timeless like he always insisted they were, Changgu’s could hear and listen to everything that had remained unsaid.

Hongseok rubbed circles into Yanan’s back when he walked away from the coffin and fell to his knees. 

When time came to put him to rest, Yanan took one last look at the man that he loved. Changgu’s hands were cold but they were still his, and Yanan placed a bouquet of white tulips in his late lover’s hold. When he felt a brush of warmth on his cheeks despite the cold, it crossed his mind that it reminded him of the brown of Changgu’s eyes and his hair and his skin. When Yanan’s hands left the flowers to go away with his lover, he felt a weight in his chest shift, and he knew he was forgiven. He hoped that somehow, wherever he was, Changgu knew that Yanan forgave him, too.

_The next lifetime will be ours, my love. And all the lifetimes after._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am... sorry
> 
> damn i really hurt myself writing this ... just the anguish of writing two people who love each other so much and still show it no matter how angry or hurt they are with each other ??? i am now empty inside
> 
> i wrote this after having writer's block for like ?? a month or two ? pls bear with me i know it's like the messiest chapter so far T-T comments and kudos appreciated as always or yell at me on [twt](https://twitter.com/violetholdsme?s=20) or cc if you wish :')


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